Sheila has an innocuous face. Those big eyes that sparkle like droplets of first morning dew.

I really like that.

I plant kisses. Slow… gentle. From her cherry lips, to her decolletage, to her bosom.

Her body is petite. Scrawny , actually. With soft rosy flesh like velvet snow. So mesmerizing. Her breasts are a handful, nothing too lewd, but enough to please. Her nipples stand taut for the longest time, in its bubble gum color.

I wrestle my tongue on her nipples, sucking softly. She refuses to moan. Am I doing it too hard? I tease the teeny peaks with softer strokes, cupping the other breast with my free hand. The beautiful milky mound sits in the curvature of my hand like a fitting jigsaw piece. I marvel at the tenderness of this gorgeous round.

I feel a reaction at my groin area as my eyes slowly move south… from her obscenely hung breasts to her navel button with its cute little piercing… and then to her clean landing strip.

Her pussy is shaped like a yearning flower – Longing for a full bloom. Her labia is outspread, as if searching for that ray of sunshine. I rimmed them carefully with my fingers, almost like reading off a manuscript. I did it piously. My head, lowered, reaching to taste that nectar like a honey bee.

She’s already wet. I detect hints of urine, but well, the internet did mention it doesn’t smell like it looks, does it?

I applied some lubricant on my fingers. It’s watermelon flavor. I figured its a girly girl smell that may appeal to her. In a sweeping motion, i hold up her vulgar looking labia like curtains to a talk-show. The sweet valley popped apart, welcoming my greasy fingers almost with anticipation.

The sound it makes is melodious, I could almost fit lyrics to the tune. My fingers are working hard… and so is my tongue. I nibble, lick and suck on the flower bud with zest. MMmMmm… Tasty.

She’s all prepped up now. For me. I pulled down my pants, my manhood groaning, begging for relief. More watermelon it is. I lubed up. I looked at her, legs parted callously. All I see is pink. Her beautiful pink hair, and her rosy skin. A sea of pure, clean bliss.

Her eyes are closed still, looking like a sleeping angel, a cherub of spring. My angel.

I assume the missionary position. It’s boring, I know. But I get to take in the entire, explicit view of her body. I shoved the entire length in. Hard. Her body seemed like it shuddered from the violence of it. But, surely pleasure has overwhelmed the pain, if any was present.

I rock myself hard. The hunger is almost insatiable. I feel like a demon, relishing a living soul. A fire burns within the pits of my belly. I could not stop. Harder and harder, I pounded her like meat. I squeeze her boobs as if they are stress balls.

‘AHHHH FUCK!’ I emptied all of me into her honeypot, like the anther to her stigma. There was no resistance. She appears contented.

I brush my fingers against her forehead, sweeping the hair like fabric threads on a weaving loom. I kiss her for the last time.

Sweet, beautiful Sheila. I own you now. Your pussy has parted like a flower in bloom for me. My seeds are now scattered in you, where they will be, for an eternity.

I re position her body, for that whorish view is only for me, her lover. I carry her up from the bed. The plump pillows still imprinted with her tiny frame. Into the bathroom we go. I lower her into the bath tub. The smell of bleach corroded my nose. I try to breathe shallowly.

‘Sorry my darling, that you have to endure this. But you need this to retain your beauty.’ The concoction of embalming fluids completely engulf her body. I shower her, my lips curling into a smile.

She is so lovely, even when she’s drowning in viscous liquid.

Somewhere back there at Sheila’s house, her worried parents must have stumbled on her note, saying she has ran away.

She has run. to me. And this is where she’ll stay. It’ll be Spring all year round with pink.