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Like A Fata Morgana

Like a Fata Morgana.
My nightly spirit.
On dusk's horizon,
my muse visits. 
Usually when swells
of the sea reach me.
Echoing into the night.

Like a fog I shudder.
My muse caresses my being.
Lady Adali, 
comforts me.
I scribe. 

Beneath gazebo
on soft thorns,
and Darmouth green ivy.
Owls nesting in trees.
Dark skies behind my eyes. 
Aroused under gray clouds. 

Composing prose.
My cock gives rise.
Lady Adali stroking me. 

Sighting directions. 
Writing prose.
Proclivities of sensuality.
scribbling for tomes.

She whispering. 
Into my shadowy soul.
Seducing the maleness in me.
Correcting the King's English,
and punctuations...
of my haunting and erotic titillations.
I dribble precum.

Aspiring fornication.
Lady Adali giving fellatio.
Like a Fata Morgana. 
My nightly spirit.
On the beaches of Aberdeen,
she swallows.
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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