I pull the drawer and pierce you with eager eyes,
shattering an entire world of wait.
I want you.
I’ve prepared you, told you everything that would happen when I couldn’t wait anymore.
I prepared myself, in long sighs of pleasure and touches of moist exploration.
You’re so fucking small, my toy.
And I can see your fear, your surprise as everything becomes real, just as promised.
I don’t have to speak, for my eyes and proud body do it all.
“I will destroy you.”
“You won’t survive.”
Everything in me tells exactly just that and compliments what I already started.
In a show of hedonistic demonstration, I slowly lick my lips, as cliché as it may seem
and I don’t care because it works.
You’re a prey and this prey just stumbled in my panties.
“I will fuck you.”
These words I said and I swear I saw your heart stop beating,
my little itch.
Image by notch
Text by Giantess Tina
[reblogging something I posted this morning…]
Uhhhhuhuhuhh… Now I REALLLLLY want to be referred to as someone’s
“[insert diminutive term here–little, insignificant, minuscule, tiny, etc.] itch.”