Sweet Scent of Wrath

I went to dine at the establishment of my minxie with a light heart. Where a lesser man might have a tinge of dread in his heart fearing that his precious one might have been soiled by an inconsequential bit of filth, I happened to have observed a mildly frantic meatnut looking for her after she had vanished. When I realised she had given both of us the slip I did chuckle slightly into my cravat for being a Dubois I do have a genetic appreciation of misbehaviour and her outright rudeness to her escort was delicious.

He must have been a very naughty boy and not in the Gervais bite you a little too hard naughty way, but in offend the sensibilities of the sweet young thing variety. When I sat at my usual table I observed her giving the sad excuse for a male a very cold shoulder while he mooned after her like an errant child who was caught eating cookies behind the sofa. Her stormy gray eyes were ice and her luscious pink lips were pressed together tightly, her fury an almost tangible essence in the room, I am surprised customers did not rush out from loss of appetite so palpable was her rage.

How I longed to press open those lips with my tongue and make her taste the inside of my mouth while she scratched down my back, I could enjoy her flesh for weeks upon end. Her glowing rage fed me until I could scarcely contain my desire for her and taxed all my self control to remain aloof to the passion laid before me. My little minxie you being on the outs with monkey boy gives me such a lovely glow of satisfaction and now I can resume my pursuit of ending your creamy white innocence. Until I can touch you again I remain faithfully yours.. ...

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