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Creak Of Wood

Tags: erotic
When you hear the creak of the wood.
The squeak of windmill blades turning.
When your senses turn to fear,
re-light the candles. 

It could be just cold nights,
an old carriage passing...
or me.
Adagio Sabadicus,

Tracing my long talons on your naked body.
Mentally embellishing your soul
and your breasts.
Sighing blue melodies,
I hum. 

Fountains of lactate nourishing my sweet tooth.
The falling of cobs webs turning to dust.
You beseech forever immortality,

My eyes caressing your vagina, 
as your hips genuflect to wanton pleasures.
Vampire kisses on your portal.
I tattoo with my fangs. 

Whispering for my cock. 
My ooze drools,
like eternal wine.
Feeding your desire. 

Swooning under the yellow moon,
on the frost of Aberdeen.
When you hear hollow breath
and you have the chills. 
It could be just cold nights.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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