Confessions of a Highwayman
Girls. Spitfires. Hotties.
Lend me your eyes!
I want a Chance, not Community Chest. I don't want money, I want the experience. Of you.
May I be honest without being gauche? I really like girls. I really love spending time with spitfires. I am a heat seaking missile for hotties.
You have gone through life and been with a few boys probably but me you haven't been with.
Propriety prevents me from explicitly saying strong statements of desire.
The happiest you've ever been with a man. I can give you better.
You want very different things at different moments from your lover and some have done some and some have done others.
I do them, all.
I will ravage you like 10,000 4th of Julys. And I will hold you like it's our New Year's Eve. And I will bring you to life like it's the first warm day of spring.
I am not lying, and I am not exaggerating.
Impatient. For you. So impatient!
I want you to make a very sexy call.
If you don't want me to meet another, tell me.
I want you. All of you. I will not hurt you. So don't hurt me, alright?
All fun. And laughter and play-danger, and adventure and good young fashioned love.
Rizzed up! when you are.
304-871-4759
"Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear...
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter.
Had watched for him her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back! he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky.
With the white road smoking behind him, and his saber brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in' the golden moon, wine-red was his velvet coat.
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a wolf on the highway.
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of her lace at his lips."
