nadine was she sixteen or was she twenty-five? maybe she was a little of both and thats just how she played me, but now i will never know. i was twenty-seven and i loved her. when she walked i heard music: the music of rimbaud. the music of valentine. the music of suffering. she was a flower. a slight but deadly desert bloom and i wish now like my love of power that i wished i had never met her but i dont. her inner thighs were killing me every day for a year. she loved those little pants, the ones the mannequins barely wear in the windows of the shops downtown. sometimes i knew i could kill a man for those thighs and the way her pink little titties turned upward inside her sheer white tops and she knew it too. and you could always see the full mound of her sweet baby pussy trying to escape those thin little terry hotpants she loved. that was the way she liked it. that was her way. she was so very beautiful. beautiful like a car crash. a true killer. i would not dare any man to meet a lover like nadine. even if you think you have any constitution for life, i guarantee you will walk away a loser if you walk away at all. there is no try with this kind of girl: if she wants you, she has you. you are drawn to her immeasurably but she takes you apart one horrible atom after the next. you think you know life until you meet a witch like this. i dont suggest it. stay back, brother. stay way back. even goddesses have teeth. to her credit, nadine knew her way around a man. she could look at you in that little baby girl way when you were up inside her, and make you want to drive straight through her into the next realm: to split her open. to demolish her. to bury her next to hitler. and you would. but somehow she would always come back. she came across like a virgin and for all your hard ways, you would think you had her beat but she was badder. harder. when i first met her im sure she was underage, at least thats how she played it, and nothing gets me going like a bad little good girl running away from her daddys house but then i was her daddy and when she would run her moist and full honey lips along my cock, angels could have died. and so now i lie here in my grave: my 1971 oldsmobile 98, cherry down in the bottom of the lake. what did you expect after all? i am sure i deserve it. i am sure she enjoyed it. i swore i would go to my death in this car, and look at me now: its not at all the way i expected. and so my brothers, even if you have some constitution for this life, do your best to stay away from my nadine, still there in her daddys house, untouched again for now. you will know her from the bodies in her wake. and you will know her deeply and fully as she takes you inside her. and then it will be too late. stay back. stay all the way back. shes a killer. and i loved her to death.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 08:24:01 +0000
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