The Trail

PrincessCDE

Wind whistles,

 Trees rustle.

Our combined breaths,

Increasing,

Mingling.

Our passions rising

Our movements

Quickening.

Moans become

Louder, Longer.

The climax nears.

Nail scratch against

His back

Lips lock on my neck.

One breath coming in a long drawn out moan

The other softer, more intense.

 

  • Author: PrincessCDE (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 2nd, 2016 10:44
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 26
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