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First Cigarette of the Morning
There’s something about that first cigarette in the morning—it hits different. i’m still in my soft morning clothes, moving slowly, but already thinking of you watching me. i light up, take slow, deep drags, and let the smoke curl around my lips. you can see every breath, every exhale, every pause. no rush. just me, waking up, letting you enjoy my morning ritual the way you’ve always wanted. the way you crave it.
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