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learly and distinctly:
the horses hooves, the creaks of the carriage, people talking,
insects buzzing. As the sun goes down you sense the expansion of
space as sounds seem to carry farther. You know exactly where
your lover is on the seat across from you. Is that by his body
heat? Or maybe the reflection of sounds? Or some sixth sense?
Your hands press against the cool yielding strength of the
leather seat as your body enjoys the warm caress of the long
cloak.
Now you realize that the street sounds are gone. "We are leaving
the city," you say.
"Yes," he replies. "I have invited a few friends to my estate
for an," he pauses, "intimate gathering."
He comes and sits beside you and cradles you in his arms. You
turn your head to kiss him but he places a finger on your cheek.
"No, pretty puss, we must not mar your artful face." He draws
your cloak apart and begins to caress your thighs very lightly.
You relax and let yourself open to his hand. He begins to trace
small circles and designs on your tummy. He tests your wetness.
"So quick!" he says. He probes you deeply, gently but with a
strength which will not be denied. Your face goes lax and your
mouth opens sli
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