I’m waiting on the words to come to my lips, but your tip presses through my lips before the words appear.
I feel the shaft moving in and out. This memory of when you came to my house.
We talked for a while. We kissed before my lips went down.
Between your legs I found what I desire.
I could have held you for hours but before sunrise you went on your way.
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Categories: poetry short story writing
jasonwhitaker29171
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