One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. I thought that I was marrying Meysey Hill, not that creature.
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