She even longed for those tedious novels where clothes were divested chapter after chapter and the sex scenes repetitive and predictable. Dodie watche... Blanche sitting on the sofa reading one of the books she’d bought, the translated title being Barbed Wire Brassiere, Blanche squirming at the descriptions of blood dripping down breasts that were torn to pieces by the unpleasant underwear of the title. It was at least preferable to Razor Blade Knickers by the same author. Dodie sat next to. He didn’t expect anything of her other than sex. This was such a welcome change from the guys she had dated, all of whom were dating solely for the purpose of finding a wife. It was so nice to just hang out with someone, laughing and joking and occasionally screwing. Okay, screwing often, at least so far. She loved it. She suddenly realized that in her excitement she had out a fair amount of distance between her and the guys. She stopped and let them catch up. As they approached, she just. More

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