Swollen lips kiss the rim and Chianti,
Suggestions trace lipstick marks on glass with tongue and breath,
A stolen gaze heeds of thoughts of impurity,
Outstretched fork offers marinara,
Eyes shut, mouth closes around pinky areola,
Tongue flutters the fleshy texture,
Passion, wine, and marinara,
Just add lust for a dangerous elixir.
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