Am I Scaring You?

Insanity gripping her core, she did not expect a beast of similarly distorted mindset to move, to thrive, and yet there, arbitrary to the existence of so many, he came. His ravenous endeavors something she were not aware of. In his seclusion and in his innocent screeching, she was doubting him. Serpentine; she glides from the enthusiasm she once possessed and listens to his proclamation. He is here! He is here! Why was his presence so great and why did he find himself believing she would care about his arrival? How cute.

Like a screaming banshee, her hips twisted her beside him, her shoulder aiming to sink into his, which amusing enough to her, was lower than her own. The cougar, staring down a vicious and disturbing piece of prey. Rancid. Disgusting. He was grotesque. Perhaps, it was what she preferred, but his odor, o it would slay nations. With adamance her light brush would turn into a shove and she would attempt to use her weight to drive him into the waters. There, if successful, she would revel, she would scream in empirical joy. Victory! Victory! It's mine.

Languid and displeased with her night's events her supple thighs find the Earth, her visage morphing from displeasure to devious lust, "Would you like to play a game?" Her games were wicked, voracious, and particularly invasive how could one resist the yearning call of a charming young doll. When the doll was her, resistance was futile; for she would have her way.