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Rated: 18+ · Monologue · Romance/Love · #2193959
A woman considers the consequences of seduction
I know the difference between right and wrong.
Do you think me stupid..? Blind to the distinction?
There's a part of me, call it pride, innocence or virtue.
Whatever name you wish, intimately involved with both.
On the one hand is honor and on the other obscenity.
The spur of Satan's sting conceded by the GODs
has Immortalized a diversity of fucking parasites.
In the urgency of copulation the future is assured.
Little wonder that intercourse carries unintended baggage
Still don't you see the irony? The elemental darkness,
despising all life, homo sapiens in particularly.., seeking an end
to an irritating pestilence has created an itch it can't scratch.
This turgid compulsion ensures the continuity of all life.
Imagine the frustration in trying to destroy something
And only fostering the blight you're trying to eradicate.

Understand that it's not the parts which are immortal
but rather the totality of a diversity and collective whole.
As fast as evil can corrupt and destroy those who live,
A new generation is born to continue the cycle.
At stake is how we define our characters.
Honor and obscenity wage an eternal struggle for the soul.
Women must embrace evil to keep the chain unbroken,
And yield to the urging of carnal desire. Our maternal nature is to fornicate,
To heed the dark bitch and succumb to her pleading and compelling whispers.
Open your blossom she pleads, Eat the fruit of the Devil's pleasure.
Tis a taste that transcends the slapping of loins and squirt of body fluids.

Fucking, is no matter to be taken lightly.
It's a contract in the flesh to nurture the issue of life.
That's one part of what's at stake, honor being the other.
So far I'm unsullied, but a hunger fills my womb.
Maternal nature bids me forsake honor if I must.
And accept the obscenity that wears at my virtue
The battle rages, coursing through my veins,
A heady brew that stifles the will and leave me exhausted.
Scruple grows numb and weak knees yawn in anticipation
Soon, I must bow before the maternal altar
and offer up all that I hold dear.
© Copyright 2019 percy goodfellow (trebor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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