Warning: Sexual implications... Still owning nothing but mental images and laptops.
Perverse: Fully Empty by John Locke
Slick fingers, wet skin, dampened hair, sodden clothes. So humid, so full of moisture.
Wild abandon in an alleyway.
Tights around ankles and boots still on, purple pants long discarded. Nothing underneath.
Tasted, petted, touched from all angles. Stroked, felt, licked to death.
Chest to back, purple leather hands supporting a man's weight against a wall, brick grinding into untouched palms.
Green gauntlets so full of sweat gripping hips tightly.
Push and pull, grunt and grind.
Heavy swears tumbled from swollen lips, pink, red, bruised the same.
Laughter from pleasure, cries from ecstasy.
Skin on skin, soul to empty soul.