Creature of the Night

She's a superb goth-goddess and she graciously approaches me after midnight for a quick lick and a shine of her dirty, platform sneakers - including the soles.

She then crouches down to laugh in my face and to mock me for having a mouthful of her sneaker-mud. She asks me how I am liking it - having the taste of where she has been walking inside my menial mouth? I hang my head in shame, for this young woman is superbness personified - my infinite better - and I know I am not worthy to savour the bitter taste of her holy sneaker-dirt. I apologise to the mistress for my impudence in doing so.

She gigglingly turns and walks off in triumph, leaving me alone with a vile taste in my mouth and at the sweet tender mercies of the bewitching hours.

































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