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MY Church

By Ruth Elliott   

Lights turned down
Cigarette smoke thick
Mirrors hanging on black walls
The smell of perfume overwhelms
She whispers in your ear
An exchange of bills
Her soft, bare skin touches you
You feel like a god tonight
But it's her body you will worship
You call her Candy
She calls you a regular

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In the sex/entertainment industry, men so often find themselves thinking that they are in control. Little do they know...



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