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She gripped the sheets because she knew she'd be afraid to fall deeper into this abyss that our love had created before us. She was ripe with longing and beauty; Flushed as the heat rushed to her cheeks and painted her skin a soft red. She bit into her lip because she'd rather bleed than surrender to the way that my lips traced her fragile being. Her hips were like oceans; begging me to venture deeper, slowly rising as the moonlight engulfed the horizon. She was the sweet water from a trickling stream that swelled at the river's edge before cascading through the sky like the Victoria Falls. She tasted of desire; bruised but filled with a richness that devoured the hunger in my starving soul.
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Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
The Taste of Her
She gripped the sheets because she knew she'd be afraid to fall deeper into this abyss that our love had created before us. She was ripe with longing and beauty; Flushed as the heat rushed to her cheeks and painted her skin a soft red. She bit into her lip because she'd rather bleed than surrender to the way that my lips traced her fragile being. Her hips were like oceans; begging me to venture deeper, slowly rising as the moonlight engulfed the horizon. She was the sweet water from a trickling stream that swelled at the river's edge before cascading through the sky like the Victoria Falls. She tasted of desire; bruised but filled with a richness that devoured the hunger in my starving soul.
MisterGranger
Written by
24/M/Dallas, TX
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
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