Cup my breasts, and they will leave you half empty. Watch them lay lazily on my chest and sway gracefully beneath my dress. Without shame, they dance.
Be humbled by the terrain of my stomach, the curve of my trunk, the valleys of my ribs, the path of my neck, the crescent of my smile, the vastness of my eyes, the flow of my hair, the bridge of my nose.
Pardon my vanity, you malicious bitches, but
My body is perfect.
-VH
Follow my spine to the curve of my back, the arc of my bone. Meet my thighs, and their beauty in between. Can you sense your humility? Your inferiority? Futility? How unfortunate that in contrast to their bearing, you are without purpose. And in contrast to their beauty, you are without virtue.
Be humbled by the terrain of my stomach, the curve of my trunk, the valleys of my ribs, the path of my neck, the crescent of my smile, the vastness of my eyes, the flow of my hair, the bridge of my nose.
Pardon my vanity, you malicious bitches, but
-VH
Very interesting.
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