C.M. Albert

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Her mouth opens to mine, the soft prodding of her tongue setting more kindle to this pyre of flames, and I completely forget that we’re in public because 3, for as prude and cold as she comes across, can kiss. Good forest nymphs, can she kiss, and I greedily take in whatever she gives, her plump lips molding to mine. More, I silently demand. Give me everything,
The Animal Under The Fur
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