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Aug 6
Sitting here, yearning for her presence,
my soul aches with longing, for her essence.

In this chair—her body a silhouette in twilight,
straddling me, a vision of pure, unspoken delight.

Choker tight, a midnight ribbon of allure,
a skirt that flirts, pink lace, mixed with passion and allure.
Hair cascading like a raven's song,
bare skin exposed, where ******* belong.
Tattoos like a poem etched in black lace,
each curve a verse,
each line eye trace.
Soft kisses I place,
caressing her face,
her back arches,
her patience quakes,
watching her lips part, a slow, sensual spark,
she may lick her lips,
But, the rest is all mine.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
976
   Man
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