Drool runs rapidly over My dark red lips and down My chin. It hangs off My face in strings before dropping off. Rivulets of spit course down My face, through My deep red, parted lips. I play with the spit with My pointed pink tongue and even blow bubbles in the stringy fluid. I tickle the back of My throat with My fingers to encourage more spit to flow from My mouth. An oral obsession, a visual feast.
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