You want to be happy, you need to be happy. You sit there and stare at my perfection. You are on your knees, pleading. Look at how perfect I am. You need to touch me, don’t you? Look at me, look at this naked space on my thighs, you want to touch me. You look at all of my perfection and all you can think is how you enjoy being down on your knees for me. Looking is almost as good as touching, but you cannot touch it. You beg and plead because you want it. One touch, one little grab. You’re so close you could almost taste it. You want to touch, make yourself happy, but you’re not allowed to, but I won’t stop you from getting down on your knees to pray to me, to worship me.
