Her Light on X

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On X’s wild stage, he found her light,
A spark of her, both bold and shy,
Her words, her frames, they stole his sight,
A sensual soul beneath the sky.
She doubts her form, her face, her grace,
Yet through her posts, he sees her truth,
Each line she shares, each tender trace,
Reveals a beauty born of truth.

That image haunts, black bra, black lace,
She leans to view, a gift unfurled,
The cups pulled low, her breasts embrace,
Fantastic curves that shift his world.
She calls them flawed, unsure, unwell,
But he deems them perfection’s art,
A vision where his heart would dwell,
A marvel carved by life’s own heart.

Her thighs, they call, a silken plea,
Inviting fingers to explore,
Their fullness stirs a need in he,
A touch he’s dreamed of, and much more.
Her knickers hug her mound so tight,
A tease of secrets held within,
He ponders joys in that delight,
What pleasures bloom beneath her skin.

Her face, she claims, feels out of place,
Awkwardness she’s learned to scorn,
Yet X has shown, in every space,
A chorus lifts where doubt was born.
“They say her eyes are stars,” he hears,
“Her smile’s a dawn,” they softly sing,
He nods, her features banish fears,
An art, a queen, a sacred thing.

He’d start with her, so slow, so sure,
Undressing her with reverent care,
Her lovely neck, a path so pure,
He’d kiss and linger, warm and bare.
Downward then, his lips would roam,
Past breasts that rise, past mound’s sweet swell,
To legs he’d trace, his hands a home,
Exploring all her form would tell.

Outside her thighs, his fingers glide,
A tender map of flesh and grace,
His mouth would follow, side by side,
Each inch a shrine, a cherished place.
Upward then, her legs would part,
An invitation, soft and free,
He’d answer with his beating heart,
To show the want she stirs in he.

First fingers, gentle, seek her core,
A dance of touch, a slow caress,
Then mouth descends, to taste, adore,
Her warmth, her wet, a sweet excess.
His tongue would weave, his lips would play,
Each sigh she gives, his guiding star,
He’d worship her in every way,
To prove how perfect that they are.

Their bodies then would slowly meld,
His cock would glide, a tender fit,
In her, his love, his soul compelled,
A fire where their passions lit.
They’d move as one, a rhythm sweet,
Her thighs around him, tight, alive,
Each thrust a vow, each breath complete,
A union where their spirits thrive.

She doubts her shell, her mirrored gaze,
But he sees all, her soul, her skin,
Perfection lies in all her ways,
A beauty fierce, a glow within.
On X she blooms, and he’s her muse,
Entranced by every post she shares,
His heart, it knows it can’t refuse,
A woman wondrous, bold, and rare.

These verses sing his heartfelt plea,
Of her, his dawn, his muse, his night,
Her body, face, her sensuality,
Are treasures bathed in purest light.
No flaw he sees, no fault to mend,
Just her, unveiled, a perfect sight,
Their passion’s start, its blissful end,
A love ignited, burning bright.

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