I like to think there is more to connect us than
what is between your legs, though in the dark of night, when I most often think
of you, I stroke up the fire that makes you come alive in my mind, and imagine
again how if feels to plunge so deep as to make you moan, this fantasy that
arrives just before my eyes close, and I descended into sleep where it all becomes
that much more intense, and no amount of stroking can contain it; I like to think
there is more to it than this, and yet, this is what I miss, this game of tag
with that button I know will make you react, each time I get deep enough to
push on it, this think we do (I imagine) that connects us again and again
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