Come my gracious lady lay thee head upon my chest, why does thou contest? These gentle hands of mine wish only to nurture you, for fear not they could ever cause you hurt, let me sway your thoughts of confusion to those of lust and ecstasy. As the tips of my hands approach forbidden places on ones body they creep not in trickery, only in your willingness to want, climax you reach with the movement of my hand a loud screech you do scream, tightens does your grip upon my arm, cut me your fingernails do, down this arm blood flows, as you relax thou grip and quiver in pleasure, I care not for the blood, but that my fair lady feels good! ©


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