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Apr 2012
let me be your cello
held soft between your thighs,
that you may draw forth music
in wanton heavy sighs.
My body held there closely
as your fingers make me fret,
my bow would be throbbing
as with oil you hold it wet.
Your scent strong upon me
as you rub against my grain,
playing with me a sweet duet
of pleasure and of pain.
Written by
DieingEmbers
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