Two ears left between us, first harvest sweet, drizzled with butter. You take one, me the other, eye to eye. You arch a brow and drag the tip between your breasts and down, dangling it just above your cuny, waiting. I mimic you and hold. The ridges of kernels bump across your clit, slipping between your lips, to rest against your openness. Soon mine is there, as well. Who will dare? Who
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