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Click hereThe shape of you still lays on the sheets of my bed, your scent lingers there. The fibers hold you as tightly as my fingers clutched your flesh while I was drowning in the ocean of you.
My own flesh moans in ecstasy at the memory of your lips and heated breath. Not an inch of me doesn't know you.
The want of you did not cease with the giving, it only stoked the flame that you ignite in me to a roaring, all consuming thing that will haunt me until it is you and not just your shape there.