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Her thighs squeezed gently on his head,
His mouth went wildly exploring,
Her back arched, begging him to go further,
Those brazen hussies said he was boring.
This lust would take him to new depths,
They vowed to teach eachother,
She felt so *****, being honest,
She basqued in her new lover.
Her tongue sought out such pleasure here,
He lost his bearings often,
His sword, left there for her to ****,
She searched his garments coffin.
She logged on nightly wanting him,
He waited for her signals,
Oh what a pity, he was fake,
Her ideal man , was pixels.
Neva Flores Varga Smith
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