the scent of her sex, pt. i (a prelude of fervid words) - future creams lyrics
what supernatural force is it that channels
man through the wilderness of l*st?
that so disarmingly disrupts the rhythmic ebb and flow of his nervous system
the placid steady beat of a distant drum
violently shifted to bombastic discord
like the thunderous clap of a thousand horses
rushing, everywhere and nowhere at once
what is this that gnaws the edges of man’s logic until his constitution dangles by a single sinew?
his resolute governance is overthrown by infectious desire
that ember that sparks the incredible fire of erotogenesis
he no longer belongs to himself in that instant
primordial submission, involuntary, ever mysterious, superlatively compelling
he is now the vicar of venus
a possession of a dionysian coven
carnal and unyielding
there is only one thing…
the scent of her s*x
his mind is at once arrested
paralyzed and proselytized
as the ancient circuitry of his amygdala hums to a lubricious symphony
plumes of malfunctioning smoke billow from his orbitofrontal cortex as the machinery of reason grinds to a halt
he surfs a cascading pipeline of dopamine and norepinephrine rushing, falling, spilling, floating
his body tossed by seismic waves of libidinous motion
the wires of his somatosensory system spark and melt
no longer capable of differentiating stimuli
for there is only a single force at work now
consuming his entire capacity and enveloping his entire being as each synapse becomes a prayer and every neurotransmitter a sacrament at the altar of uninhibited prurient expression..
it is…
the scent of her s*x
is it her quizzically pursed lip?
yes
is it her skin flush with an alabaster glow?
yes
is it her divinely arched back, sending heavenward the stiffened peaks of her bosom?
yes
is it the sl!ck of her nectar as it paints her pudendum with coats of glistening shimmer?
yes
is it her soft whimper of surrender as she too succumbs to concupiscence’s urgent tug?
of course, yes
but more than anything else
it is…
the scent of her s*x
i shall say it again, my friends
it is…
the scent of her s*x
it is the carnal olfactory bloom of her innermost sanctum
the rarest air
the finest lungful
it is her earthen musk
emitting forth in harmony and voluminous proportion to her widening chasm as she parts the wickets of her loin
it is the fragrance of her womanhood, rich and bold
checkered by staccato notes of dancing pheromones and aroused electricity
it is the bouquet of her puckering rosebud, the pungent, spicy allure of her sacred flower
raw, warm, and forbidden
these are the perfumes of her pleasure
the redolent ingredients of her intoxication
she is ripe for you
her fruit is aromatic
she is vulnerable
she is ready
my friends, you now know
it is…
the scent of her s*x
it always was…
the scent of her s*x
and
it always shall be…
the scent of her s*x
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