prose/poem
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Those small hollows, tingling like two cups of hot tea.
As his cock reached into the hilt of her, he'd work his way to her spine. (The exploratory hands of her lover, was a blessed assurance.)
Then, with a resounding smack, his palm came down upon her ass; the fullness of each cheek, receiving its due.
She loved him, all the more, at moments like this:
His possession, his love, giving space to the entire room; and, the bed only a cavern's twinkling, in candlelight.
(How did it ever happen, their meeting like this?)
Remembering the goodness of a spanking...remembering what makes it so special, so lasting,
so loving. The hilt of her is singing...into crimson.
Life.//
`x~Abe's Heart. 08/21.2009~12:26PM
3 comments:
Very sensual...
Beautifully comfortable
~~1manview~~Thanks for your comment. You've got a great site...I have to make a point of reading more.
Madame Dragonfly~~You're beautifully comfortable yourself! Love your blog!
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