Their lips crushed each other's as her hands held his face and twisted his hair. His arms encircled her slim waist and pulled her close, knocking the ...ind out of her lungs. She pushed him back enough for him to get his hands on her blouse. He ripped it open and kissed her neck as eight little buttons fell to the floor. He tore off his shirt and grabbed her once more. He could not be separated from her touch for more than a moment. She could feel his passion, and he hers as they stumbled blindly. To this day I haven’t finished Death on the Instalment Plan. I don’t read a lot, and it’s just too cynical for me. The April issue of Ass Lovers’ Monthly is still in its plastic wrap underneath my bed. I’m not much of an ass man. Jean looked at the cover of that magazine a month later, in between bouts of fucking. ‘You know what I love about this? The punctuation in the title. It’s not Ass Lover’s, like it’s appealing to a singular ass lover. It’s the plural form. It’s like by buying this. More

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