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- Erotic Poetry
- Dripping
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My tongue catches the drips of bitter coffee as they run down my cup.
I am reminded of the same slick action of dragging the tip of my tongue up your chest as you leaned over me last night. Catching the beads of your sweat. While you pummeled into me.
But I was only mimicking the way you darted and flashed your tongue over my clit hours before. I learned from an expert.
I pour another cup of coffee. And wait for your call.
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