You lie on your bed. Your phone warms your chest. Your cock fills your hand. The rest, I forge in prurient fire. You listen through the room’s solitary restlessness. On your back. Undressed. Aroused. Some are words. Some are not. Both are whispered, out of real time, yet immediate as the throb agitating your grasp. In breathless flow from your high-tech heart of glass, they echo the

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