Isn’t it best fucking done Through a wild and threatening storm?That night there were flashes along the horizonMingling with the glistening city lightsThat etimesgut escort winked in the distance like eryaman escort firefliesThrough silver streamers of driven sincan escort rain.No moon,No stars. Safe inside your roomI was safe inside you.We went at it in the inky blacknessRipped bright by blue-white flares.My climax hammered through meIn beams and boltsWrapped in warm white velvetYou took deepAs your finish raced to meet mineTo the drumming of thunder outside.You wrote about that night in your diary.I wrote about that night here. 

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