something is not quite here
not on the surface
not quite tasty on the tongue
like a temple orange not yet sliced open
with its bitter fleshy skin still smelling ripe

the flesh of your thick cock fills with blood
raging through your dark gray slacks
rising and straining against your firm right thigh
like the lava that pumps through your veined hands
while my body hovers over your long prone frame
not quite settling in to mount you
but yet you penetrate my interior
determined to feel flesh parting

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