My ink once freely flowed. Your cock burst the zipper to shower appreciation on my stories. Now, worldly stresses spank my fantasies, shooing them to my mind's darkest corners. I scribble a dribble. Then, a drabble. Alas, the well runs dry. Time passes . I rest my pen against my parched lips. Then, push inside. My tongue flicks the tip. The plume swipes my nipple.
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