She tongues the glass like it’s your face. Long. Slow. Smearing spit down her chin. She moans with her mouth wide open. Nose squished. Cheeks flushed. She was supposed to stay clean. Proper. Dignified. Perfect. But now she’s up against the glass— Tongue out. Mouth open. Begging to be seen. Her lipstick’s ruined. Her eyes still challenging you. She flattens her tongue. Lets the spit slide down. Each lick slower, wetter. Breath fogs the glass. Saliva drips from her tongue. She licks again. And again. She moans into the surface— So close you can almost feel her breath. She licks like she’s starving. Saliva strings stretch. Her chin glistens. The kiss isn’t clean. It’s filthy. It’s for you. Is there anything better than a spoiled princess turned feral? Prim and proper turned needy. You think you have control… But you know you don’t. (181206_14)