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| SLIDING FINGERS |
Nowither the course
To the nth degree
Her attention is to me
Nuzzled comfortably
She is taking the lead
Of what she might need
Hoping it does not damage
My masculinity
With fingers like butter
Gliding from the chest
Down the front spine
Down to my vine
She seems to know
It does not bother me so
Her skin is glowing red
As if this couch were a bed
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