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The serpent hides behind my teeth, interrupting my breath... my lips pour out his venom.

The fruit, he tells you, can be found within the skin under the lace wrapped around my waist.

I swallow the sins that you whisper down my throat and they water the blossoms of the fruit on the tree rooted in my hips, fates damned.

And your first act of contrition is sliding down my thighs.

Location: Chicago, suburbs
Contact: ebcotenord.com


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