The moon is a light skin cousin of the sun thus only seen at night, ferociously dressed in white setting what is apparently (very laughable to me) a romantic setting. Sitting outside Chardonnay in hand he leans closer to her neck, the scent of her perfume, tantalizing, arousing, appetites of lust and sexual malnourishment flood his body, he leans in. He is good..he knows what to do. He stops a hair-length distance from her skin..he breathes out slowly allowing the warmth of his breath to engulf her hairs.
Her nails, into the grass they go, deeper, and deeper as the lust lashes her luscious body. He licks the nape of her neck, toying with her desire, summoning the darkness inside. the first drops of a stream begin in her crotch, twin peaks, two of a pair on her oh so glorious peaks fight for release, the constant brushing on her brassiere making the stream flow steadily. He pulls her towards him,close,just close enough to say…”Move out by the end of the month”….
Yes it was her landlord.You totally saw this going a different way…you need Jesus..lol