Your lies are like a silent fart. Can't see 'em, but I can smell 'em.

He tongue swiped my sex like was licking the frosting off a cupcake. I called out to heaven again. . . . My sounds encouraged him to torture me.

Her young lover changed positions, grabbed her and pulled her rear up high . . . went inside her at a brand-new angle, stroked and grunted. . . . Like he wanted to crawl inside her.

They . . . had been slugging it out like Rihanna and Chris Brown on repeat . . .