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sunday service.
i was never a church pew on a sunday kind of girl;
heavy breaths fill my lungs, the sounds of satisfaction exhaling through parted lips, fingers entwined in dark locks. desperatley begging for more - more of you, more of your hands, more of your mouth.
"keep going," i whisper, your hands pulling me closer. “please don’t stop.”
your fingers twist and curl in just the right directions, and suddenly i’m praising god like i’ve attended sermons my entire life.
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