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” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. It was not your fault you failed. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. Like a trollop in heat. As he felt the threshold of soft wetness he froze and said, “Lucy, are you sure?” She whispered, “Yes,” and guided the top of his penis into her vagina.
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