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musings

Inhale

I slide my hand between the valley of your tightened shoulder blades, down the plane of your back and through the sweet crevasse of your cheeks so that the tips of my fingers just reach that most sacred, secret, and cherished place of yours–

You inhale, sharply.

I love you like this: all your attention drawn in, your body poised, teetering even, waiting.

Waiting for me to touch you.

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

April 2013
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