It simply doesn’t count. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. The man lingered. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 17-09-2024 13:17:11
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