Small Surprises

Her soft loins are like digits, 

They feel, they feel, 

And touch upon the right spots, 

And spread outwards, growing bolder. 

When she licks me, 

Her spittle leaves ribbons on my chest, 

Unnoticed, I gather their appearance later on, 

Sitting bored in the office, 

I feel wetness bloom beneath my clothes. 

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