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Added 2019-12-23 19:56:24 +0000 UTCLast night her hand slipped up my sweater and found its way to my throat. She pressed. Gentle. Firm. I straddled her lap in the backseat of her work truck. 2am; dispatch radio blinking and streetlight pouring in. Her smile dazzles, razor sharp white, my heart is pounding.
(I made this for her for Christmas.)
