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The Hunt

running my fingers across the arrow
that I draw from my well packed quiver
I trace my eyes across
the curves of your perfect body
firmly I set my sights
on your perfectly shaped neck
I watch your throat pulse
your perfect breath escaping
barely parted lips
seeing you there
perfection personified
your form and figure
percisely aligned
with the tip of your demise
yes Ive got you in my sights
it would be so easy to lay you
down upon the ready earth
for it wants you as much as I do
I pause taking in this moment
for all it is worth
my hands are skilled and primed
for this encounter
I let my arrow loose and watch
as you go down
so easily
the hard earth exclaiming
as you fall onto the bed
we have prepared for you
I hunt for I am a hunter
I think to myself
ever I am searching
for the sweet throbbing union
that I now place within you
my prey
you are mine
I whisper
as I sheathe my sword
deep within your flesh
feeling your blood rush
to meet the intrusion
skin flushed eyes glassed over
you draw away
again and again
only to feel me plunge it deeper still
that is until you grasp it
tightening your invisible grip
and it is I who am surprised
to hear you whisper
"you ... are ... mine...”
as you moan and shake
till I break apart
I am the hunter now become prey
emptying my essence
as you devour every inch of me
relieving me of the burden
of my mortality
now spent and lying
upon the scorched earth
of my folly
you coo to me
you “like your victims strong”
thats why you chose me you say
my life for life
as you coax new life in me
I am in awe of my newfound vigor
I watch you toying with my blade
sheathing it within your flesh
as if embracing it
dealing with it every so firmly
moving on it like a guiltless convict
covered in the robe of an angel
you are not pristine
nor innocent
nor pure
tainted, with a huntress soul
devouring me again and again
any attempts to regain
the upper hand or get away
pure folly for the trap is sprung
on this game of cat and mouse
and it is I long in tail
who you now call husband
strange word husband
to be forever held captive
filling the hollow
of your huntress heart
that you’ve painted up a pretty pink
like my hunters flesh
the rosey toy dangling
tween those lips
so full and warm
if only I knew
I would have played this game sooner...

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Autres oeuvres par Cory Garcia...



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