The Temptress Ilk

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Flesh full lips upon skin of satin silk,

roses peaking on mounds of soft cream milk,

skillful seduction is the temptress ilk.

A touch, a caress, a brush of a feather -

mapping the curves, swells, and dips to the nether.

Beneath the surface a storm brews and tethers-

to my soul as I gaze into your eyes,

glimpsing the gateway to heavenly skies.

Lips set a blazing trail of butterflies.

A sigh, a moan, a gasp- music to the tempter,

filling the growing need of the hunter-

prowling deep in the mind of a lover.

Passion reigns to the heartbeat of thunder.

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