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Bodied in you all insignia of womanly clings,
fingers infinite to the dew permutations
of beauty and beauty in parasol.
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144064
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“I better go. My mom needs me at home,” she says. Soft. Smooth. Firm. Sweet. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. I kiss her on the cheek and she stiffens in response. My heart bleats.
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144383
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Julie studied her brush, plucking a strand of hair from it. She looked up and smiled. "My mother thought you were a peeper."
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119521
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It wasn't that I couldn’t imagine it. Rather, I could almost conjure the choreography to mind. One of his hands would graze at the side of my face. One finger would extend and stroke me, from my temples to my chin. He would press my body against something
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1244129
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My man wears chartreuse shoes.!
He wears chartreuse shoes like a new king
right there on Main St.!
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