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Tales Of A Wife: City Of Calabar

Mixed with the wind, still waters run deep
Coming-hell ears hear, hot love she drops
City of the clean, adorable and immaculate
A mouth that never runs her own lips
Nor heap a pad where there is or isn’t a hip
Natural overwhelming platonic expression
Philanderer addiction, the vortex of an ocean
Phone number to have, soft and fluffy downy lotion
Aphrodisiacs posterity and an erotic generation
Acoustic sensation of dreams come true on
Chilli bed of an unflappable function
Climaxing to hell beside the phrase maker
Mother library of potion, sex love voucher.

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