“Rizz” tumbles out of your mouth, but not a word, not a molecule reaches her ear. All she hears is your 60 Hz deep voice that came from many a night screaming into a pillow. All she sees are your widened lips that were stretched out using your thumbs. She glances up and catches your T50 shitskin eyes, yet ne’er does she suspect the truth as she admires your blue-colored contacts. Her mind is vacant, placated by looks into a coma of submission. You call her a faggot without a hint of humor, and she laughs. All principles, all previous conditioning she has undergone is forgotten. A woman in the face of lust is reduced to an abused dog, and in modern times, we’ve buried the leash.
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