I will make love to an assassin
I want him to rip my soul apart
The way he exterminate his enemies
I will feel his breath,
Promising of ecstasy
In my eyes, vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
Then I will put the tip of the gun in my mouth
My mouth will be so warm and my tongue so wet
My tongue will swirl around the muzzle
As my hands play with the gauge
My eyes fixed on the barrel
In my eyes, vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
As I suck the gun
I will hear him groan and mourn in pleasure
As I play with his tool, a tool that butters his bread
Straddling him in a kneeling position
I will feel his hard manly throbbing and pulsing
Wishing to replace the gun, craving him to take me in
In his eyes, as I suck the gun hungrily,
Vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
His fingers will find my hair
Commanding me to go deep plunge on the gun
Wishing I would make love to him not the gun
I want to make love to a licensed Killer- wish to be his fantasy
Sliding the faces of those he exterminate
From memories of the images he slides to me on his phone
The phone he holds aplomb, with pompous rigidity,
Vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
Smoldering fantasies of his manly inside me ignite burning,
lust and longing
Rising us in a metaphysical experience
The naughty little girl inside me will scream
As I orgasm and fall down the pillow
Bodies will fall softly on the pillow of blood
And I will look at his face as his orgasm in despair
In his eyes, vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
At dinner, I would be more entertained at his expertise
At his detailed tools of work
With the images of the next victim sprawled on the couch
I will load his gun
Kiss him with a well wish
Ask him to go and look for more bread
In his eyes, vision of sweetness, sweat and blood will linger
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