Brushed Against My Soul
arched fingers on hand as legs entwines and water droplets tear up my robe seam the slipping, sliding of movement as you brush against my soul as your touch elongates my joyous moan the beauty of your touch is why i love you so much your touch, on my mocha skin and your chocolate wonder breathing in as it brushes against my soul my head rests upon your chest Written November 23rd, 2001 © on Nov 23 2001 04:34 AM PST 0 • 16
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"arched fingers on hand..."