Tatami Jism

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in the hush that followed
light rain became a downpour.

her black eyes shining,
her stout nipples dark in the red light,
I roll away from her,
my fingers lingering to stroke her moist mound.

the swamp smell of her snakes up along her belly.
she plucks two tissues and plugs herself,
but as she stands to pad softly into shadows
a pearly dollop plops on the tatami
and I wait, glowing, with tissue poised,
for magic ripples to subside.

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