Moist Wet Panties
J
James McLain
0
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In the darkness of the dresser drawer,
where silk and cotton lie, folded still,
the fabric of her secret waits,
damp with the memory of a body's heat.
A lover's breath, soft on her ear,
a kiss that lingered past the silk—
became moist dew, the center in-between.
Moistness from the night before,
And in the morning, the sun rose,
but his scent remained, of what she'd done..
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