Ask.
Submit.
My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.
18+ please.
mrmofokingoftheanons asked: Dear Lolita Von Lustyloins, If you go out tonight, please be careful. There will be LOTS of crazed and drunken zombies shambling about. I would give you a big platonic hug but I would just pop a boner so how about we just shake hands.
Don’t worry! I’m sick as a dog, so I didn’t even go out. (; thank you though!
I’d still prefer the hug!