Journals of a Psychopath.



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The Lady Flarice’s House

Pounding on the door and she swept it open, leading me inside, the Lady Flarice assigned her fingers to my male-weapon.
      “You are so very magnificent,” she said.
She blinked and repeating words of praise, the Trees and the Darkest-One were enchanted by the event. Exploding, my organ throbbed. Edging the path to utopia, the Purifiers and the Archangel shunted forward. Shifting her lips to my man-weapon and she kissed it. Taking her skull in my hands, we slid to the floor. Thrusting into Lady Flarice’s honeyed-part it was small and tight, it pulsated her vagina was moist and warm. Glistening and she whimpered with ecstasy, grasping her rounded organs Lady Flarice’s nipples pressed into my palms. Sliding my lips down to her velvet-mound, she quivered. Trailing my tongue over her clitoris, I gave her pleasure, we climaxed, ascending to heaven and we reached the stars. When it was over, the Lady Flarice did not want me to leave, and she was not shy in letting me know. I deserted her, it was named the game of hearts, hers would be broken, mine, would remain cold and strong.

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