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Pow Woodtick Pow
Prance across my stomach, with your lightest touch.
Take a big juicy bite out of my boobs, wood tick man.
Sure. Swirl my blood around in your little mean mouth.
Take your time. Enjoy yourself, at my expense. For a second.
Here is the deal. I have sensitive skin, and I will feel you rather quickly.
So I will slather you in Vicks or Vaseline. You will have to pull out to breathe.
And POW! That is when I will smear your bloody corpse into my Kleenex and
Flush you away, delighting me greatly.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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