Up The Garden Path

Wait for me there, Up the garden path,  Take a step, and then another, Open your arms and then - Surrender. Let the vines entwine your wrists,  Let the cold air caress your lips,  Allow the rose thorns to tickle your thighs,  And the shrubs and tall grasses to make you - Sigh. Let me take you, standing there,  Breasts heaving, hot to the touch, Pushing aside your petals of sex,  By

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