Chelsea G. Summers:
. . .In your dark days, you can count these euphoric moments like rosary beads. The time you remained fully clothed as you carefully disrobed another laying waste to his jacket, his tie, his shirt, his shoes, his socks, his pants, his t-shirt and finally his man panties, until he lied on your bed like a creamy white éclair and then you ate him up, fucked and ate him until he swum in his own happy sauce. You recall the time you slowly fingerbanged this woman until the juice of her sloppy cunt ran dripping to your elbow, her pussy ululating like an anemone, her voice singing beatific songs. You summon the time you spread your ass and slowly, incrementally, lowered yourself onto a man’s cock with sadistic precision. You recollect the moment you and your lover spread yourselves across the sky and your celestial fucking made new worlds and fresh galaxies.
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