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Prose

Leaning against the hood of your car, with our tongues entwined, your hands up my shirt, my hands down your pants. Your smooth, hard cock twitches in my hand. I hike my skirt up a little more, a little further, a little higher. One of your hands fists in my hair, forcing my head back, neck exposed to teeth and tongue. With one thrust, you sheath yourself inside of me hard, fast, strong. I cry out, the sound echoing off the rock face and people turn to look at us.

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