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It's the way your eyes follow mine— Desire blooms like peonies and you drink me in like nectar, draw me close to your naked chest. I can't think anymore— All I hear is how fast the rhythm of your heartbeat is, how you softly moan while yearningly kissing my mouth. And, oh Lord, your hands— the way they worship my imperfect body, slithering up and down my waist, my hips. My hands roam around your back and my nails leave scratches while your teeth leaves love bites Poetry swims in my blood as you slip inside of me, my coldness against your heat, and like melted wax, I drip— becoming one with your body.
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Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:52 AM UTC
Being Worshipped
It's the way your eyes follow mine— Desire blooms like peonies and you drink me in like nectar, draw me close to your naked chest. I can't think anymore— All I hear is how fast the rhythm of your heartbeat is, how you softly moan while yearningly kissing my mouth. And, oh Lord, your hands— the way they worship my imperfect body, slithering up and down my waist, my hips. My hands roam around your back and my nails leave scratches while your teeth leaves love bites Poetry swims in my blood as you slip inside of me, my coldness against your heat, and like melted wax, I drip— becoming one with your body.
Krish_E_S
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Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:52 AM UTC
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