As he nipped at my lower lip, his tongue crept into my facehole, exploring my delicate head cavern like a professional burglar (or whatever the fuck). He was perfect, gorgeous. His masculine scent drofve me wild, while others would think he stunk like shit and dirty unwashed ass cheeks; a man who must have bathed in the juice created by putting cigarette butts in nearly empty bottles of water and cat piss (from male cats). He was in complete control of me with his powerful, borderline, violent, yet strangely delicate strength. he was tenderly possessive, physically abusive. But left me feeling desired. An abusive piece of shit. But I've never felt more cherished. He was unreasonably aggressive. Yet surprisingly submissive. And when I took him inside my body, I knew I would never be alone again. When he pulled out and blasted a load on my face like a shotgun (that utilized sperm shells), the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. I was the only woman in the world as far as he was concerned. Then came the haymaker. The bright flash of white. A clear indication the bastard had clocked me directly in the temple, and as my vision faded to black, I couldn't help but wonder... "Why me? Why does he love... Me? I'm just an average girl like other girl reading this right now... Jeez... I'm so plain. So insecure. Downright boring and normal. Why would this gorgeous man love... me? I'm not even that pretty! Plus for some reason like 8 other guys are fighting over me too".
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