Posted by filed under Written

‘Fore my fingers, a soft touch,
pink of health, breathless.
This silk of skin, of flesh,
this rosy pink of health.

Lap, lap, lapping and tensing,
a sudden rush of breath.
Twitch and moan, whispered plea,
sweet mouth and tongue, reaching,

to embrace, encircle his girth,
for none is as silk but he.

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