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
. .
. She'd obviuosly not gotten over those nights back in 1988. My cock was about to explode
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
. .
. She'd obviuosly not gotten over those nights back in 1988. My cock was about to explode
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
. .
. She'd obviuosly not gotten over those nights back in 1988. My cock was about to explode
