“My back twitches, as I stretch out amongst the satin table covers, cracking my hips and thrusting my head. I begin to touch myself, slowly, at my core, my fingers stained blue by the fairy cakes that I devoured.”
“I dip my left finger in the blue buttercream and paint my nipple sweet. I squirm and move to the rhythm of my hand, my body a desert battlefield. Amongst everything I have prepared, I become both feast and feaster, indulging in the richness of my own essence.”
