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I stroke the curve
of sleeping thigh
savoring
the wet
slippery
sounds from
skin on skin
between.
I had
but a taste
before my need
to thrust
overcame my tongue;
now
I want to
turn you over
and feast
but having tasted
I shall leave the rest
for the other
soon to arrive
I will let him sup on
the pleasures of
your parted lips
and instead
savor thoughts
of banquets to come.
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