‘Go to bed,’ she whispers. Before they even touch, theheat in her belly makes sense of the love stories told byher bedfellows as they sit up round...the sewing basket inthose precious moments before sleep or wash each other’shair in gatherings from the meadows.Ivan flings back the great bag of goose feathers andthrows himself into the centre of the mattress, turning inthe air like a fish. Anna glimpses yellow and red marks onhis back from old and fresh beatings. How that womanhates beauty. He. I seated myself on the table, leaned back on my elbows, and waited for my note to be found.I licked my lips, a horny flush shuddering through me. I wrote the note with my right hand to disguise it and, feeling real naughty, I had kissed it, leaving a bright-red imprint of my lips on it. Something sultry.It was a simple note: “I saw you with Donna Paxtor. I am hot, wet, and itching for your cock. Find me in the baptismal changing room.”I ran my fingers through the fine down of hair covering my. More

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