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GRIP
by
REAPER (LA)
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Two legs atop your face You got your tongue in her favorite place Four hands set an evening pace Perhaps the why to a conscious race As the salt trickles down her spine As the hot in her legs meet mine As the blade of her lips connect I find my grip fasten around her neck Grip around her neck it make a b*t*h so wet F**k her take a shower then we f**k again Fingers feeling Flower blooming cryptic red In her lies a serum for this earthly dread
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