Darke Passions:

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Her lips tasted like black cherries drenched in chocolate. Her breath whispered across the satin naked void that seperated us, as we sit in the theatre, fighting to follow the obscure work. Sadly, inexorably, all I could think of was her. The taste of her flesh and the notion of us locked in a... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by RavenDarke at 1:18 PM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry
October 2005
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