Tryptych (c) 2002 by Mike Kimera

My tongue lops his just spent seed from her swollen sex. It is a ritual with us: part blessing, part penance, part pleasure.
We have so many parts.
I was already his wife when we took her to our bed, believing ourselves predators, although she knew we were prey.
When I first shuddered to joy on her fingers, we all three knew I was hers forever.
My desire for her remains urgent, painful, insatiable.
She could have taken me away but she chose to stay with him, becoming our sole connection, our shared obsession, the hinge of our lust.

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