ItsGoddessRed

The clock strikes quiet.
Work ends.
You log in again.

It’s always in the silence where I feast on your restraint.

Send it. Or stay in the

Spent the day oiled up, sun kissing every curve while I stretched out on the boat.
You don’t get the view.
Not unless you pay to peep,

You call it scrolling. I call it surrender. Every tap. Every glance. Every time you circle back to this page… you’re deeper.

No message.