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His Glasses I wondered If he could see Without his thick Prescription lenses I pictured him huffing and puffing His face A red boiled radish Swanking me from behind The lenses getting all fogged up Sliding down the bridge of his nose Due to the sweat He'd exhaust From Knocking the logic Out of my brain. I pictured myself On my knees Kneeling before him Begging him To take off his spectacles His upright swiftness Motioning for my control Drooling to introduce His swimming truth of thousands His glasses Mmm, his glasses- I want to put them on my face Smell where he's been, The Musty trickles The Dank enclosures The Warm southern comforts His glasses- I want to squeeze Them between my folds Sloshing them up With my excitement His glasses- I want to Surround them With my tickling thunder Erupting my soiled buttermilk In between The rims of his sight.
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