The Song of the Dead (poem)

Gaping jowls of time, fears that julian and shred, my soul may have left long ago, but can you hear the song of the dead? there's too many of us, they said. the hourglass is empty, they said.

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Daddy's Girl - Chapter 6

Drool was dripping from his thick, drooping jowls to coat her back and the back of her neck, marking her with his pungent scent.

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A Gaily-Presented Gift

Lane smirked, but his heavy bear jowls didn't quite get the memo, leaving him with a melted half-smile. "i ain't a fag," he groused, kneeling between the bat's stout thighs. "i just like dick." "and ass, and ballbags, and taint," dallas chirruped.

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The Simple Things. Chapter Thirteen.

His jowls hung lower than his jaw and even so he managed to bare his crooked teeth at me when i cut him off on our way down towards the pool tables set up in the corner.

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The Northern Path

Slowly she pulled back, offering him her jaws, the thick jowls. martin kept massaging her, digging his fingers in her features. he knew his part.

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Trapped 2.0

A bit of saliva dripped from his jowls as he smiled and approached, filling the bound jackal with a creeping dread that caused gooseflesh to erupt on his drying flesh. "who are you? ...what are you?"

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Ode to My Giant Werewolf Boyfriend

I don't know what he sees in me, so small, but laughter fills the hall with booming howls i cuddle to his palm to miss the squall and towel the drops of spit flung from his jowls.

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