He who writes knows
For who writes,
And the one who reads it knows
Very good that for her
She is written
And without being able to remedy it
Bites his lip,
A chill runs through him
Her back,
To end
Imagining the writer
And walking his hands
For his breasts,
His lips down her neck
And nipples,
To end in a
Moistened pussy
Where to put your
Fingers are impregnated with
The juices from him,
In circle they begin
The fingers of her that she in
That moment imagine
What are mine to
Give yourself pleasure.
To stay hot and
Wet she begins to
Put them in and take them out with
Intense whispers
Moans and gasps
At the same time that for his
From her head my image is
Walk provoking her
Increase the pace and
With whispers she asks me
Carlos do not leave
Play with your fingers,
She rubs her lips and
Rub the button of her aciendo
Tremble her body and
Bristle her skin,
She reminds me of going
Developing in your
Head my writing that
I turn her on so much and now
You want to end in a
Intense orgasm,
She has my last letters
Etched in her mind
She plays with your fingers and
Rub your lips to
Give me the best of
Your orgasms
Plooooooooof,
She spills out
Rains,
She cums
Flooding her pussy with
Juicing and bathing your
Fingers that lick them
Imagining that my
Fingers,
Between whispers she said,
She was reading you and not being able
Control my desire
Of masturbating,
I just wanted to fantasize
With you and do in me
Pussy the gift that you
For me,
You had written to me
Still my
Pleasure legs
Obtained,
"" "There are orgasms that
They have dedications,
Even if they are my lyrics
And not my hands that
Provoke it,
Virtual temptation made
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