The Dream Dreaming. . . reweaving. . . A distant sigh, a curl of longing Fire building. . . night falling. . .

The stars aligning; and all . . . is revealed Panting, wanting, waiting, hoping, for that one spark, to taste. . . to lick. . . to savor burning, sharp, sweet, and biting . . . your skin on mine as we dance under the stars in and out, squeezing, releasing, creamy, gliding, pounding, thrusting . . . arching and then curving the flow is amazing, the roar unbreakable . . . and the dream lightens. . . and I tremble, then. . . fly into light

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