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Cellist
Folder:
Extended Metaphors Knees separate
as he slides in between.
He moves his hands along
my slender neck
massaging it,
tuned into my moans.
His fingers maneuver
across my hourglass figure,
running them down
my curvaceous sides.
He plucks my strings:
drawing across his bow
to cause vibrations,
eliciting gasps.
We glide back and forth
in fluid movements
until the final quiver.
