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I can't stand your touch.
You put your lips to mine and I want to scream.
You put your mouth on my ** and I have to close my eyes and imagine his mouth on me.
You enter me, and my memory has to recall his face, his touch, his body in order for me to climax.
You wanted this.
You wanted me to love someone else so you could love another woman, but I think arrogantly you thought someone wouldn't love me like he does.
But he loves me as though I am the only woman that matters in the world. He calls me his queen, his lover, his girl ... His.
And now all I want to do is be in his arms and away from yours.
Like many females they stay because they have a work horse to pay the way.
Uh no. We are both earners.