Annie has parted her thighs, for me, for me, and I lie between them, my belly her sticky moist bush, my torso feeling her blood heat, resting an ear between her sweaty breasts, hearing her heart pound: returning to rest.
To the north: Gold sun, bluest sky, over the mountains. The French side on the right hand, and on the left, English. Below, the
rive sud.
In the center, the island.
Ma blonde: L'origine du monde.
{280}
>> posted by John Psmyth
• 4/15/2004 11:08:00 AM
•
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