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You don't know me. Who am I to you I could be the young women down the street with her long brown hair flowing in the wind. You catch a sniff of it she smells like your mother's cherry pie. Or am I the lady next to you with long smooth legs that could go on for miles. She was protected and cared for. Her legs are bruise and cut free. She came from money. The thing is you'll ever know. You have to fantasize my features what I look like how i think how i speak what do i love who do i hate All you'll get are my panties. And you love it. You are my prisoner.
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