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| from inkflesh |
I forgive you for that horrible prose. I know, I know….your BaD sense of judgment.
From now on, boy, there will be no more of those flaccid attempts. I’ll make good, hard and deep memories with you, instead. Picture this: me, deep inside you, you, hanging by the length of my flesh, dancing to the delight of our sweet horny music.
You ask me again, flushed, not a bit embarrassed, “Zac who?”
