Demure Dancing Daggers.

"You're dangerous," she daunted daringly.

Deftly dancing balanced daggers on her own demure digits.

Delighted smile displayed for a delayed split-second.

Drunk on desperacy I dallied in dissecting her authentic intention

Dissappearing, after display of dark dress, and domineering double D's

I drank in the distortion of her demonstration and dialated on the dissonance

Even delving now, through our discussion as I diffuse our dangerous dance

into ideas and denotive designs on digitial device.

Her demons dance in my abdomen, and I deeply breathe to disguise my throbbing tremble.

Upon overdue return, she drew me to the dark void of her design

Rubicund red pursed lips blew adorable kisses from dimpled cheek and dipped hand.

"Into the hole you go" She nudged ever so slightly,

And I dove with ardor.

Deepening, vast, and unbridaled I deemed I had willfully dropped

Dropped into a demonstration of our desire

Delightfully mingling her lust, with my daydreaming

The next Day, I convulsed in her depths.

Begging for disorder and disobedient rendezvous.

She endorced my spasm and wordlessly demanded my dick.

I have given her the dongle to my desire.

and after my first detonation deemed decent to her.

5 minutes later on, my devior demanded replay

And I realized.

I am doomed.