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- Erotic Poetry
- Breakfast at the Y
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It comes fast
the rush of lust
blood fills
my burning rod
a piston in need
of her sweet cylinder
In the canyons of my craze
I thirst for her sweet peach
the nectar of her hive
where her world explodes
on my wanton tongue
Where her hip dance
becomes tribal
as she begs for more
I like it
wet and hot
cheeks painted
in her dressing
before I mount her
reminding her
a stallion
loves to fuck
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