Devil in Disguise

His fake charm is never elusive. It leaks from his skin, flowing freely from some nether hell. The air before him burns, as the earth beneath him abates; inadvertently, he sets fire to all he touches. Beneath layers of soft skin, libidos are raging; women, both the pure and the wicked, are falling endlessly within themselves. But he’ll never touch their heaving bosoms. Little do the know: the king of hearts lost his cherry to the human spear.