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Sometimes I lie to myself so I can feel like the world is a beautiful place. I think my rose colored glasses fell off. If found, please return promptly. I miss oblivion. Lustful Angel Feathery touch of a fallen angel's flurry Intimate glances shy, unhurried Nearing the flesh that binds the soul Volcanic heat, ebbs and flows. Heated breath; lips parting soft Embracing arms; ineptly unswathed Skin against skin, chest to breast Roiling passions, over-expressed Punishing gropes of shameless lust Merging together with unabated thrusts Glistening. Stumbling. Tangling tongues. Eagerly pleasing. Exploring undone Quickening pulses of accelerating thirst Immersed in rapturous releasing bursts
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