Gauguin and Brel knew. They caught the spirit of this island paradise and saw the odious erosion wrought by their country’s missionaries and busines...men. I gaze at her picture. I still hold it in my hand. Oh, I almost forgot to mention it. She wore a red sarong covered with large white flowers and large green leaves. It matched her haku lei and her halter-top. It fell to her ankles. Her feet were bare. She was colour-coordinated. I could only imagine what her legs looked like. I am sure they. Her hands slid up and down on his prick, neither demanding or urgent, but letting him know she was more than ready to have its thickness buried within the tight sheath of her belly.But he still waited, gliding another finger into her heated hole of passion, while yet another fingertip tapped at her clit, taunting it out from under the thin membrane of its hood. It was as if he teased her body to quell forever whatever traces of "rape" still remained in her body. He taunted her, stirring her. More

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