I know the person that you are. I know the desires that you have. I know your thoughts and intentions towards me. I know what you see when you look at me. I know what you want from me. I know how much you want me. How much you desire me. I know the things you’d want to do to me. The wild and unconventional things you want me to let you do to me.
It’s crazy, unhinged, wild and extremely messy. You want more than just so watch the fantasy ever created, but to be part of it. You want to create personalized versions just for you and you alone.
You want to kiss me. You want to touch me. You want to feel me. You want to caress me. You want to choke me. You want to spank me. You want to spit on me. You want to finger me. You want to suck me. You want to bite me. You want to fuck me. You want to possess and own me.
You want all of me. Willing and able to you and your desires. You want submission. You want control. You want to dominate me. I want to take all that I have and don’t have to give. You want it all and you want it when you want it.
It’s all about you’ cause you’re selfish like that. But at the same time you’re nice aren’t you. You want me to do those things that you want, voluntarily. You want me to want what you want. Want me to crave what you crave, but unfortunately, I do not.
You want to have me not keep me. You want to enjoy me not worship me. You want me but in only the ways that satisfies your selfishness.
But you want me to enjoy it though. You want to please me. You want me to feel things and enjoy the pleasure. It’s nice isn’t it. To have someone that wants to pleasure you. What happens when we have different definitions of pleasure? What happens when the things that please you does not please me?
Does that make me inadequate? Unqualified? Unworthy? Useless even? Because that’s how I feel.
I know you. I know what you see me as and unfortunately, I’m not her. You want to fuck me till I know nothing else, then what? I become your personal cum dumpster till you find someone else or even better, you find someone worth keeping.
You want so much from me and I could give it.
I don’t want much but even the little that I require I’m not sure you can give it.
I know you well enough to know that falling for you would be a mistake. I’d be the only one falling with no one to catch me. You’d eventually move on from me when you‘ve had enough. Or I would move on when I realize but I don’t want to be a sex doll anymore.
Attachment is not a problem for me’ cause I’m not stupid enough to let myself confuse sexual attraction for genuine affection. You’re a bastard. I know you. I know I’m nothing more than a body, a friendly body but still a body.
Your desire for me is just that. An attraction to a possibility. What happens once you get it? What happens when it’s below expectation? What happens if it’s all you wanted?
I don’t think I’m her, in fact I know I’m not her.
I know you… that exactly why we would never work.