She was silent now, except for the breath whistling in and out of her open month. She panted in time with my pounding cock.Forty minutes of managing m... arousal. Slowing down, speeding up. Letting the urge build to an explosive level. The only sound in the room, our heavy breathing and bodies slamming together.I pulled her closer, my chest flat against her back, my hands now cupping her pert breasts. Our bodies were slick and dripping with sweat. I felt the heat and flush in her upper body. Some scholars say that her story is a myth about a particular season. The fables devour the sun at night, or the anthropomorphic story of "insurrection." Some people think that her basket of wine and cake represents the Holy Communion of Christmas, and the red hooded shawl represents the woman's menstrual blood. Some people use the psychoanalyst Freud's point of view to explain that this story describes the self that defeats me. Others believe that it is a symbol of the relationship between men. More

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