"Yes, yes"— Angel smiles with her cunt, clenching me: "I know, I know"— As I spasm once more— "Yes, yes." {300}
>> posted by John Psmyth • 5/09/2005 07:49:00 PM •
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Zero stars All in all, not nearly so nice as the corner: - The room is the size of the bed
- The bed is the size of the room
- Her boombox is gone
- Her AC is gone
- There are no flowers (that I discovered, the last time, were fresh)
And I'd almost prefer to hear the groans and bedframe-battering of the couple next door then try to drown them out with the Oldies. But at least—since the bed a genuine massage table, whose headrest has a hole for my chin—she can stand at its head and massage my temples. We'd passed by the corner on our way to dim sum. "My university," Angel remarked. The Corner[1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], and [7]. {300}
>> posted by John Psmyth • 5/09/2005 06:28:00 PM •
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She turns off the AC; she must have remembered I hate my flesh cool. She stands at the foot of the bed; I caress her round thigh with the sole of my foot, for her thoughtfulness. {300}
>> posted by John Psmyth • 5/09/2005 05:01:00 PM •
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My mother's cunt, from which I come. Strange, some think their god made us, when so evidently sex did. {NA}
>> posted by John Psmyth • 5/08/2005 09:38:00 AM •
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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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