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To where the foreskin closes round. The tip, and crowns the rosy peak. It swells a little at the end. Under the soft skin, sketching out. The gland, an inch long, with a pout. Of red lips showing at the end. After I've bowed at length and kissed. The rod with loving gratitude. Let my caressing hand grow rude. And seize it in a daring fist. And then suddenly doff its cap. So that your tender violet bud. Bursts out, not wanting for more blood. Joyfully beaming from your lap."
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"Les Hommes" |
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Artist Unknown - 19th Century |
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