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The Man Who Ate Roses
His tongue was bloody with wounds from the thorns. Roses. Wonderful sweet dew covered roses. Juicy. Warm from the sun. Remenescent of peaches in a june orchard. He plunged his tongue inside the center petals. Oral contact with pistil. Pollen seeped from somewhere within the erotic flower. Sweet liquid of botany mingled with heated obsession.
Published 22nd Mar 2016
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