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Lying side by side, your fingers a nimble centipede crawling up and down the furrowed fields of my back, raising quivering meadows of gooseflesh... Exploring, crest by crest, the small hills of my spine; a bumpy highway leading north to soft furry forests... Questing back and forth, across the valleys and ridges of my face and and neck, gently exploring, caressing the plateaus of my back, the ridges of my sides... I am glad in your exploration... One does not find such an inquisitive centipede but once... October 12, 1994
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