The Sacred Virtue

Just like a germinating node, so are the childishly preened pudenda load. Ecstasy in fluffs of dew are bestowed as croissants for neonate are getting bold. Silky gazelle of a nymphet endowed with sacra enshrouded in rotund paunch. Void of fangs and mouth befitting are the teeth of the edifice in humanoid with no grouch. The seed of yesterday grown into belle with dribbling tactics like that of Pele. Flaunting is the resolved fate of the sacred supplements to beckon dates. Beauty turns a bristly cave to hot zone. Porously damaged by the bruises of intruders than ozone. Countless are the palms that perched on bristols. Maw sleazily sips syllabub of bullets from pistols. The sacrosanct abode is completely looted. Detritus is what left in meretricious package for the prudent who services in honour of the temple, even though he is deprived of sacred virtue. No sooner did she coruscate than bean cake burst into hot palm oil. The past becomes a hunter of the present, so once valued lifestyle turns to toy. Seductive lustre of her face turns to squeezed monster by the harvest of sacrilegious treats deliquesced to sweep away the sacred grace offered as a companion and visa to yonder. Bedridden attire inextricably adorns the body of a raver. Cosmetically pimped face is decked with burnt patches. Pimps desert their client in company of debilitated beavers. Sacred virtue that breeds grace is not found to save its owner.