Kissing and caressing, his hands never roam where not invited and he moves at a slow and gentle pace. Suggesting some supper, you go to the kitchen an... look through the cabinets, mind reeling, but not from hunger. Well, not from THAT kind of hunger, anyway. He walks behind you and places his hands on your hips, leaning over you he kisses your neck and shoulders and whispers that he would really love a Pizza for supper. You call Papa John’s and the evening slips into night. He looks at his. "There you go Skippy you beaut, get your face into that. I'll be doing the same in a tick of a kookaburra's tit." He brushed dust off himself as he went through the bat wing door of the Sol Saloon."Starve the crows!" he exclaimed to the barman, "I'm as dry as a dead dingo's donger, and me throat's as rough as a bears arse. Give us a Fosters Billy, before I croak like a Pom politician when he has to hand back his expenses."The bar man sadly shook his head." Sorry sheriff, there ain't none. A. More

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