Cyclone

I had not made you orgasm before this moment: Tucked in the spiral of a million dreams, baby, I had my hand firmly between your legs. Were you actually awake? And if not, what were you dreaming of?    High pressure slashed into the low. Fear exhilaration ripped as you came like a cyclone.    You must have spun off because in the morning when I awoke you were gone, and all that was left was your sweet smell of debris and the half-skeleton shape of everything I had in my mind before it hit.

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