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A little redhead slipped off her swimsuit and took her place under the shower – her pussy hair was golden blonde. He often used it on Tereza as well, and even though he said it softly, even though he whispered it, it was a command, and obeying never failed to arouse her.
Bruno moaned a little, and was beginning to feel dizzy. Hearing the word now made her desire to obey even stronger, because doing a stranger’s bidding is a special madness, a madness all the more heady in this case because the command came not from a man but from a woman.
” The showers were fifty centimeters apart; if he took a shower next to the redheaded girl she might accidentally brush against his prick. But after clicking the shutter two or three times, almost frightened by the enchantment and eager to dispel it, she burst into loud laughter. The letter before me became distorted beyond recognition. I was held up by a feeling of dizzying suspension, like the one I have in dreams where I can fly, but only if I get into some weird position. Then I became aware of a small frenzy of expended energy behind me. Gradually Evelyn relaxed and her flesh shook and quivered under the emphatic skill of Goldman’s hands. Fear hooked my stomach and pulled it toward my chest. The skin on my face and throat was hot, but my fingertips were cold on my legs as I pulled down my underwear and panty hose. In the end she is arranged across the pillows, a ritual she accepts without a word. In a few minutes he rolls her over and puts it in as if the intermission were ended. She buried her face in the pillow to smother her cries. She was shivering now and her buttocks were clenched against the invigorating chill of the astringent. Goldman now took from her bag a bottle of massage oil and began to knead Evelyn’s neck and shoulders and back, her thighs and calves and the soles of her feet.Just read the first couple of excerpts below and you’ll find steamy, romantic, arousing sex writing. She was a blonde who wore short, fuzzy sweaters and fake gold jewelry around he neck. Inside the back room, the woman has crawled out from underneath the man. She grips a pillow in her fists and he breathes behind her, hot air down her back which is starting to sweat and slip on his stomach. He unfastens her stockings and slowly rolls them off. He was clutching in his hands, as if trying to choke it, a rampant penis which, scornful of his intentions, whipped him about the floor, launching to his cries of ecstasy or despair, great filamented spurts of jism that traced the air like bullets and then settled slowly over Evelyn in her bed like falling ticker tape.”“A loose hierarchy of prostitutes occupied the airport and its suburbs – within the hotels, in discotheques where music was never played, conveniently sited near the bedrooms for the thousands of transit passengers who never left the airport; a second echelon working the terminal building concourses and restaurant mezzanines; and beyond these an army of freelances renting rooms on a daily basis in the apartment complexes along the motorway.Writing that doesn’t make you cringe from bad prose. As Steve Almond has recommended, if you want more insight into how to write sex, there’s no better text than the Song of Solomon. At her friendliest, she had a whining, abrasive quality that clung to her voice. She doesn’t want him to see her face because it is blowing up inside, red and furious, and she’s grimacing at the pale white wall which is cool when she puts her hand on it to help her push back into him, get his dick to fill up her body until there’s nothing left of her inside: just dick. We reached the multi-storey car-park behind the air-freight building.