Kessling

KESSLING ( a poem by Stardust 8937 –9-29-100 You tell me I can rub my fingers– my palms– on, through, and over your soft, jet-black, almost fur–hair.. And caress, touch, hold onto your shaped head[…]

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Wicked ties

It was official. She was going to kill Steven. What kind of an editor would send a journalist to cover a story as vapid as this one? Laura smirked to herself, disillusioned. The headline, “Derek[…]

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A love letter

The Start. I would kiss you and slowly undress you kissing you all over as I go, then we could go take a shower together where I would soap you up and massage your breasts[…]

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This morning

I arrived at work this morning as planned, and went directly into M’s office. A few pleasantries were exchanged before we got down to business. “I want you to crawl over to me,” he said.[…]

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