her climax sang

We made love in a tangle on the couch in her front room. Ten years had slipped by us, but her body still seemed perfectly familiar to me. I suckled her breasts as I had long ago. I kneaded her legs and kissed her soft toes. The sound of her moans as she reached for her climax sang like an old lullaby, so soothing in its excited familiarity that I quickly came myself. We fell in a heap on the floor, laughing and sighing.

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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