Summer Love
By craig2
Drenched from games on an unguarded beach we removed our jeans to a blanket between the dunes. Pillow of sweet sex smell, soft moving mounds of warm moist sand, ink black waves tongue our naked island - the moon's silver path beckons night be spent, caressed. Written January 1st, 2002 © on Jan 02 2002 10:16 AM PST 0 • 8
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"Drenched from games ..."