Mottled tattoo—-a taboo—-beckoning
her to return to—-sip the fine vintage

of his fourteen-year odd—-essence needing
but a single nip from her—-teeth carnage

blood-blood reopened—-her tongue bathing in
his dusk boy—-blood that sticky grin. The curve

of his cock above the sheet’s skin, boy sin
calling to her fingers. Who has the nerve

to go there when lust is neither legal
nor pure? Caught in—-that dim shadow she did

nothing but obey as her cooled flesh warmed
and she called him her—-cute anal angel

he was all—-that’s taboo—-what we forbid.
All that will leave us a monster transformed.