Language lesson Doggy styling, just as I had thrown my head back, pushed down on her cheeks, and started to take joy in accelerating, my thickening cock, the resonant
sound of her resilient ass, came—
Les—cloches! Annie said, from below, without missing a beat.
Hats?—red felt, I think, then—Ah! The shape (Freud)—
Bells: Calling the parish to five o'clock mass. Our room was high up, as high as a steeple; the sound seemed to come from next door and roll round us. We're inside the changes: Treble cymbals, bass gongs, not playing a tune, but pounding out hoarse metal patterns, clashing and clanging and booming and banging—
Then silence. Spooning. Her hand in mine, just like her
sister's would have been.
{280}
>> posted by John Psmyth
• 7/05/2004 07:31:00 AM
•
0 comments
0 Comments:
