Wrecked Aircraft Sale

I'm your ...

My hair used to be grabbed from your hand, because you may have leisure to direct my head where you want.

My eyes remain lowered until you like, or to be blindfolded, or to see what 'that you deign to show me.

my nose to smell anything that smacks you, to what good we can create with our sweat and moods mixed with one another.

My ears are to hear your sweet words, your firm convictions but also to satisfy your orders. ;

My mouth, you'll need, because it is open to only your sign, and may be violated by all this' you want. It may also serve to kiss and adore your skin, your taste and everything else you want ... but not only
My voice will speak for answers to your questions, to serve, to make I yell out the cause.

My body is yours, and you can use it to the best that you want to hear your every time you want to savor it for the belt which you give me signs obvious, your hands in contact with my buttocks mingles with crackling sound in each beat, your computer games that have become mine too.
Aspiring dreams of a relationship that I hope will not ever m'abbandonerà.
Among the many top secret lustful desires, he won a game among many,
unexpected ...
continues to leave marks in the soul ...
But most of all: the body, a sign of your passage,
sign of your possession,
sign of my total belonging to you.

My soul of slave

now free and enslaved,

between delusions and desires,

repressed desires to make room

to new frontiers, new barriers.

My skin slaves,

hours heals slowly,

in the folds of that pain

relentless and exquisite

of which only our two bodies

shape they know the dance.

My slave cavity,

now ready to rest,

in those nights longed

desirous of your member

that brazen and insatiable entered

sweet and brutal at the same time.

Where did claw deep breath,

where the wind dried up the wait,

lay helpless there, ready for your use.

ready for any sort of game,

of challenge or obstacle to overcome.

Happy to receive this pain

that only you can cause in me.

brim like the blade of a knife,

poised between hope and the few forces

incessant desire to bow to your wishes

and be more fair.

Freed from the tyranny of life,

solemn condemnation of a to be left alone,

judged and common among many women.

But I'm not a woman.

have something that belongs to you.

As such, it is amazing,

just because your selfish ego chose.