I can see that thirsty look in your eyes. Water can’t quench this desire, nothing seems to bring moisture back to your lusting mouth. Licking your lips is a sign you are thirsty for one thing… my spit. You worship my shimmering saliva like the fountain of youth, bringing you life as you gorge on every drip that oozes on your tongue. I play with my strands of spit like a harp creating a wet symphony of saliva streaming down from my perfect teeth. Drink me in, for I am the salvation to your desperate drought. My spit is the sacred holy water you worship, bathing your soul and cleansing your filthy perversions.