Featured

My Artistry Is You

Our Mixed Box

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Every murky night I just envisage you
clenching me tightly from behind.

I feel your whiff over me
and your hands fondling my locks.

I am blushing with your love shower
And painted red in your delight.

Suddenly my phone rings and then I apprehend that it just my artistry.

It is you, I don’t how you know that I am missing you.
I deluge in you and it is another night of endless talks.

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