We met on a Saturday or was it Sunday?Anyway there we were,Queen Katherine and Princess Scarlet,A kettle steaming.I was steaming elsewhere.We talked one by one to convert,More like pervert!’Over land and sea, your haunting Elvankent Escort voice’.Pictures of lollipops and septum’s,A Goth appeared and disappeared,Like the Beşevler Escort Blood, adrenalized, whore,With a swat upon her pert behind.Across the airwaves,Just Cebeci Escort another game played here,We dance a tango now,Lips that quiver over sprouting nipples.Cascading conversations,Flicker the fluttering black matted lashes,How we’d fuck the eye candy,And knickers showing in that tight black dress.All too soon the clock struck twelve,I took the pumpkin ride,Bed, hot chocolate, naughty thoughts,But no honey left in the pot.Hmmm, think I dreamt of Naughty Sprites,Teasing warm wet pink petals,Trips across the lap of black silk luxury,And a rosy red ravished goth.