You shouldn't.
You really shouldn't.
But you are.
You're thinking of how delicious it would feel. How utterly sweet the agony of surrender, the process of devolution into panting and slick skin.
But the fucking isn't sweet. It's coarse, crude, and dirty. Half-dressed bodies, muffled screams, and hard surfaces. Fingers scrabbling for purchase, an attempt to find balance where there is none. The serene obscenity of animal hunger.
It is you, doing what you shouldn't.
Someone obviously needs to teach you the difference between the words “should” and “ought.”
~smirk~
elise
Newsflash.
Nah.
How can it be wrong when it feels so damned good though?
Anything forbidden is particularly delectable when finally tasted, whether it be that piece of pie one swears they won’t eat because they’re on a diet, or the otherwise-taken man who allows himself to be seduced (and yes, I’m speaking from experience with that last, because I don’t diet).
The fun really begins when you give in.
Perhaps doing what you shouldn’t do is exactly what you need.