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Oct 2013
I hear your ragged breath.
Thick, nasal gulps in between kisses.
I’ve always loved your make out hisses.
The way you tilt your head.
The way you hair falls in auburn lengths,
Cascading from your autumn crown.
Gold, red, hazel-brown.
I find you ravishing.
(Behind closed doors) Let’s do rude things.
Peter P
Written by
Peter P
422
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