The Great Enabling

When I told you just how fucked up I am you thought it was sexy. Every gory guilt ridden detail about my sexual impulse control issues and my multiple personality disorder where a version of me would rear it's ugly head and fuck the entire football team without shame or hesitation exempt from moral restriction. It aroused you so. Planted seeds of intrigue and your hard dick made you swoon over how innocent I appear. Your rabid lasciviousness so overwhelming making you unaware of the opportunistic and predatory whispers of your conscience. You needed desperately. And desired passionately to exploit my mental instability. How wonderfully vulnerable I am. You salivated with anticipation from your wildest premeditations. It made your moral compass you'd spent years fortifying with your higher power crumble within moments making you forget and question who you really are to be drawn to such sin so effortlessly. Your will becoming pitiful under the shadow of your most primal nature to conquer to own to destroy just to prove a point to your ego that you're still alpha. My unintentional feminine allure made you hate me. So much that you needed. To maim. And well I was dying for just that. My cries for help strategic. Just in the aftermath glow don't come to realizing what I allegedly made you do and call me a succubus or monster just because now I can't stop and I refuse to.