††††††††††† The braying cattle lack patience for slow tease. I have a blue bikini top† and a G-String, cut for rapid release.
Down front sits a quiet one. He seeks my soul as well as my snatch.. He gives a damn. He wants the archetypal whore with a heart of gold. He hasnít got a hope in Hell.
†I dance the gauntlet of grope, place his trembling hand on my breast,† whisper thanks,† and kiss his forehead.
Tits out, I throw my G string to the trough-fodder and walk off.
The man with a care wonít come back. They never do.
††††††††††††††††††††††† ††††††††††††††††††††††† †††††††††††
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