It Must Be // no. 1

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The girl's lips were soft ĺike flower petals, they tasted of honey and nectar.
The warmth flowed down my throat, through my bones and my blood.
I felt a hand on the curve between my hip and lowest rib, and the softness of thighs like cream.
This is what the sky feels during a storm.
I thought.
Surely, This must be.

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