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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dainty Fingers
If dainty fingers paint the gentle line
Up and down my hairless slit, do you
Delight in slow traversing? Is it fine
To see the entire length; or do you rue
The fact my tightness isn't filled? The top
Of my soft mound gets wet as back (it goes)
And forth and over. It seems, I'll not stop.
The fine, familiar warmth begins sweet flows.
Coursing through wicked thoughts, I'll inch towards
The precipice, past which lies no return.
My focus on the button soon affords
Enlightenment for nerves - the sweetest burn
From this show boat brings pleasure to my mind:
It's good, I sigh, that life is gently lined.
Up and down my hairless slit, do you
Delight in slow traversing? Is it fine
To see the entire length; or do you rue
The fact my tightness isn't filled? The top
Of my soft mound gets wet as back (it goes)
And forth and over. It seems, I'll not stop.
The fine, familiar warmth begins sweet flows.
Coursing through wicked thoughts, I'll inch towards
The precipice, past which lies no return.
My focus on the button soon affords
Enlightenment for nerves - the sweetest burn
From this show boat brings pleasure to my mind:
It's good, I sigh, that life is gently lined.
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