Our real gift to each other, though, was ... each other. We'd been boyfriend-girlfriend for a long time, had spent a lot of nights together, but we'd ...ever lived together. I'd read in a lot of places that getting married is a really poor idea until you've done that, spent days and nights and weeks and months together to the point that you each know all the other's faults and quirks and marriage, the final step, is no more than a speed bump in the road.Maybe that's right for a lot of people, but. Mom chuckled. ?The seed of his staff, the cream that carries forth the seed that will make a baby inside your womb.? Aliya rolled her eyes. ?Mom, you can’t have a baby out of your stomach.? ?No, dear, but your husband, let us pray God, will have plentiful seed and needn’t worry about wasting it by squirting it on your face or down your throat, if he’s the type who finds that amusing, or humiliating, or just plain hot.? ?Ew.? ?You’re slave-cunt. You do your duty even if it messes. More

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