Describe this image in your best prose

She was sitting down on that big butt,
but i was still staring at the titties though

Sunset fell into her skin.

Contrasts of cotton and denim formed an obscenity upon her body, the impudent thrust of her bosom demanding the attention of whatever viewer might happen across this image.

Her thighs hugged each other like lonely lovers, the sly wink of a belly-button casting out like a dare to the tongue.

...

Notice the headless flesh and legs. Take Venus, take mother Mary, take the triple goddess, the moon, and cut her head off. The greeks have nothing on us. We have zeroed the moral balance. We have tared the female form to concentrations of the adipocyte and distributed her mass electronically, boiled her spirit neurochemically. 1 Liter women stock, a little prolactin, endorphin, oxytocin, dopamine, and cum to taste.

She sat on the bed. Legs crossed and leaning back on her hands. Her bed is grey. Her sweater too. Her denim shorts the only colour, a light blue. She knew this and didn't care. For the colour of her clothes didn't matter, but the colour of her skin did. That was what she wanted to show me now. Her sweater going down in a wide opening exposing her breasts. Her pants as short as possible to show off her legs. Legs that were bouncing up and down now. Brushing against my pants. Moving their way up. Asking for me. Too bad.
"Little Jezebel. Don't make me give you what you crave. You don't deserve it."

The god damn fucking smell again. This fucking retard shit herself, I can tell already.
"Did you fucking shit on my bed you dumb little cunt?" I asked sternly, always reminding her of her place.
"N-n-n-n-" was all the dumb fucking slut could work out before the back of my hand gave her a taste of her own lying shit.
"LIE AGAIN YOU FUCKING BITCH, SEE HOW FUCKING FAST YOU WIND UP BACK IN COUNTY"
The tears of an autistic cunt. So real, so clean. She isn't trying to work her way out of it, she isn't trying to manipulate me. Her world really is falling apart over a shart.
"I-I-I'M S-S-S-" I cut her off again with an embrace.
"It's ok baby, accidents happen. Lets get you cleaned up."
The shine in her eyes is like a puppy. So much to be built, so much to be destroyed. I'm not the worst man she ever knew. That's her dad, the fuckface. The chomo shithead bastard. Got what he deserved.
And so will she. She will get my love again tonight.
After we clean up.

i have never touched a girl or woman before. i am now at an age where to be without any sexual experience is considered, rightly, perverse. my awareness of my pathetic condition suffocates my every waking hour of life and i am rendered totally crippled, ensnared in a spiral of exponential existential-impotence that deepens each day and takes on new, darker shades each morbid month. my mind is consumed with the vacuum that the abscence of adolescent sexual or even emotional attention from the opposite sex has left and the reality of the unrequited nature of my status of life paralyzes me so thoroughly that I sometimes stop and stare at the glass of water in my hand and think "why bother, why continue?". i long continual for the most childish forms of female affection while being developed enough to know such things are fictitious. lately i burst into tears every time as i lay in bed and wait for sleep, which has come to be nothing but an unhelpful narcotic that momentarily relieves my existence of its imppssible state, to put an end to the unending process of a memory consumed by missed opportunities. even looking at a woman such as in ops pic fills me with such a profound sadness that i lose all instinct and urge to communicate with anything external to myself. i wish to be a body without organs. i am a husk mimicking human behavior. i just want to have held someone's hand at some point in my life. and my position is so utterly hopeless that, even if some girl were to show interest in me, which of course will never happen, especially now that my hair is falling out, i would lack the capacity to reciprocate her affections and would ultimately drive her away since I would not want to put her through the embarrassment that a relationship with me would entail. i know that i am incapable. i know that i know nothing about love. i am resigned to my fate, and i feel no semblance of absolution

She sat at the end of my bed with her tight legs thottily exposed, crisscrossed in a whorish manner. Her ginormous gelatinous Gargantuan and Pantagruel's flopped soundlessly as she, with little patience, hopped and huffed on my previously undisturbed comforter, which had been quite happy in its prior state. Looking distressed, as my comforter looked at me with distressed pressed into its quilted folds and wrinkles, I began to notice the whore, with distress, looking into my eyes, in a way which brought back to my memory a hunting trip with my grandfather, in the spring of '82, where, with the barrel of his rifle pointed towards the heart of a ginormous white rhinoceros flopping its way through the plains, there sat a whore, my grandfather's whore, gaping as she is surely wont to do in any situation, with great distress at the thought of such a magnificent animal flopping and rolling to its grave. I understood then the situation whereupon I found myself in, and drew my grandfather's rifle, in distress, as the whore saw in the reflection of my mirror a page length reply to a thread in the process of being typed up on a Persian Snakecharming Imageboard.

The fire had died. Seconds ago a cream colored rope of ejaculate had been catapulted out onto my chest just below my chin, a second rope followed and banded around my navel. My midsection glistened against that sterile light as if that pale blue granted all the life that would not be and could never be a small moment of recognition before casting it off into oblivion. What I saw now was of no importance. Pulpy flesh wrapped in denim.

One woman, for sale. Used. Many times.

I would love to have sex