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"sensimilla" poems
She wore vintage lace & bandanas, fresh flowers looked pretty in her hair. She was born in the city, but the country was her playground. Counting stars was a pastime for her & her bed was surrounded by a circle of burning candles. Imported incense swirled in her room, natural oils were her expertise. She was certainly no tease, she could make you feel at ease with the way her body talked. She loved to **** sensimilla. No joke, she was absolute Heaven on Earth. I lost my mind with her & she never gave it back. I think she still keeps it in her secret treasure box.
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
I Think She Still Keeps My Mind In Her Secret Treasure Box