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Sep 2011
The lights turn down,
Your touch burns my skin,
Bruises my shoulders.
My lip tastes of copper
from your passionate kiss,
your teeth sinking in mercilessly.
Roughly, gently,
You remind me I am yours,
And command me to say it.
My eyes half shut,
My breath coming in loud gasps.
That is your answer,
And your wicked smile
Only makes me want you more.
Explicit due to what may be implied.
Lucia Delarosa
Written by
Lucia Delarosa
810
   Sarah Pitman and Joel M Frye
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