This is a shed, painted with my ideas. Thick haze, where's the ganja at? Some lovemaking couple in the corner, piles of material, clothes, sheets, blankets. The words leap from the walls and that makes sense, pictures of fractal patterns making your eyes swim. How fine, that we can just lay here for days and days, smokin' of the earth and fucking eachother furiously.
It gets a little dramatic sometimes, but a little excitment can be just what the place needs, even when we don't like the current fucktonne of shit.
I've got her close against me, pretty hips, pretty skin, pretty breasts, pretty face. I've got her just where I want her, using her to my advantage, manipulating her delicate form to grind just as I like it. My little doll, with the dark hair and drawn-on eyebrows, skin so soft, so white, ivory. I'm watching her body move, touching and kissing in all the right places, break her legs. He's coming 'round from the other side, she's slamming her back in to him as we make her moan...
Her name is Kirsty. Kirsty is my bitch. She's so pretty, little dark haired elf with the petite structure, you know, the ones that look hot in ripped jeans. She's pierced in places... And all she wants is to be pressed up against my body.
The guy's name is Lee. His face is painted red and black today, perfectly matching to the fierce expression he weilds. His face is like a painting, such character... You can see all the techniques and textures used to mold him. He's an artist, and all his memories are on film. His smooth, warm hands run over my skin, I squeeze his hand tight and scream.
Rick hands the bong to me. I pull myself away from the mangled lust-pit for a moment to enjoy my cone. I pass the bong and turn to see our moment has ended, and I begin searching for my clothing because I want to make tea and it's cold outside.