Sanguine Lips

These purple circles I’ve drawn on your throat, with my sucking lips, burst hot and wet on my tongue, when I pierce your tender swollen skin. You slip your tongue inside me and offer your sanguine lips to my mouth. Round and red, I drink your lips with fervor, as to part your thighs. You offer what, warm and wet, lay between. There I feast until, in rapturous death throes, you collapse.

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