I open my legs for his ebony pecks.
He braids my hair while he pours his dick down my neck.
Hairs of his balls tickle my chin.
His face wears a nostalgic grin.
I drink him, he is shrinking. Like a candle running out of wax, he grows dim.
He goes limp with his sagging limbs.
He doesn't mind my drooping skin.
Every time I look at those pecks, my legs open up as a reflex.
Every night we have sex.
Until he runs out of light.
Then I clean my rims and let the darkness settle on my skin.
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