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The Water Drop
The Water Drop The escape of a drop of water on the edge of my lip plump, round, soft, silky sweetly that slips under the lip, the pores absorb a few micrograms of this blue gold, this water that causes our survival, quivering on that rosaceous silky skin. This drop follows the chin, neck drifts leaving a<b> damp </font></b>trail. The sense of touch of that cold liquid on my hot skin wrapped in this nightgown of velvet, the color of a night of August, sky dark blue as the universe, dotted with shining stars off of the sky, the deep blue that envelops my white and silky skin. My skin reacts to the run-off that drop gently rubbed my collarbone housed in satin strap with that, I feel it slip out of this enclave, focusing on this small rebound forming the bust, I see down to the swollen mound of my breast, my tender skin becomes iridescent chills, my nipple is erected facing this tiny torrent of water. The suspension of this drop on my nipple remember the mound of rocks with very steep ledge, suspended in time, the time of gravity, it falls like a Lilliputian cataclysm to the ground. This exploitation of time on my nipple awakens sensuality, a moment of vibrations called to pleasure, sensations and climax. |
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