She's fiery. She's seditious.
She's horny and delicious.
A teasing smile, a wicked grin.
Dripping with adrenaline.
Tantalising eyes and soft red lips.
Husky voice and massive tits.
Swaying hips that make you dare.
Inviting you to a clandestine affair.
You float to her like a moth to a flame.
You are ready to play her game.
Hold her, touch her, give her more.
Kiss her, fuck her, make her yours.
Do it everywhere. Do it now.
Do it at work. Behind the couch.
Make her scream. Make her moan.
Record it and use it as your ringtone.
Lick the cream. Off her chest.
Lick her like you're possessed.
Reveal your darkest of secrets after sex.
"Actually Susan, I'm quite depressed."
"What do you mean?" she sits up, surprised.
"I think my wife knows," you then surmise.
"What the fuck?" she bellows at you.
Throwing around a pillow or two.
"I thought you told her!" she continues to yell.
"Oh shut up Susan!" you try to quell.
A vermilion blaze lights her cheeks.
"You fucking bastard!" she begins to leave.
Striding beautifully across the floor.
She slaps you before she's out the door.
Tick tick tick. You just got pwned.
Now in this hotel room, all alone.