Left emotionally awrack by the discovery that memories of momentous parts of my past escape my mind’s slippery grasp, I need to discard awhile the problems of the day, to keep them at bay via the comfort and closeness beget by company.
I ask Windress if she would like to go on a second date. Readily, she agrees. A talk at the bar would do me good, I explain, and I would like to learn more about her. But immediately she mentions my room and, almost despite myself, she drags me upstairs.
There:
Sure, go ahead.
I guess if you wan—
I quickly discover that where her eyes wander, her mouth is soon to follow. Anon I catch her gaze drifting netherward—and my anticipation is breathless. For a while she explores me, and the issues of the day are washed away by waves of pure, unadultered carnal satisfaction. Then, I reciprocate her attention, but ultimately she deploys the heavy artillery: a double-ended dildo. What followed is much too graphic for me to describe; at one point, instead of moaning I almost neighed, feeling as I did like a horse being ridden to exhaustion.
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