"Begone! or I fire!" he cried. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. I spent this afternoon in detention. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. Her confession was still unmade. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Do not mistake me. A series of photographs were taken of them: her on the stairs, the couple of them on the stairs, the couple of them in the kitchen, him pinning a red rose corsage with great care and acute sexual frustration. She removed the belt and drew down his zipper. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before.
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This video was uploaded to borgodeltaglio.com on 27-06-2024 08:02:07
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