Puddles form on the cold ground, yet the air feels hot;
Two girls in a back alley, who haven't been caught;
They are both entangled, hypnotized by their own lust,
Their flesh only parted by the fabric over their bust.
The fingers slip in, knuckles deep, an escaped muffled moan,
But noone can hear them, at least they think they're alone ;)
Winged Cloud
2018-02-11 04:13:01 +0000 UTCAmiee-Lewise Watkins
2018-02-08 22:44:53 +0000 UTCErwin Doppler
2018-02-08 11:40:15 +0000 UTCAmiee-Lewise Watkins
2018-02-08 08:21:06 +0000 UTCSilvador
2018-02-08 05:35:30 +0000 UTCKurt Kobain
2018-02-08 01:59:12 +0000 UTCThomas Stew
2018-02-08 00:58:55 +0000 UTC