She did not want the tedium of romance, the tender, considerate sex, the avowals of love. She did not want the roses; she wanted something more direct... more physical. She wanted the thorns.She stopped on a street corner illuminated by a dim yellow streetlight that barely penetrated the humid air, leaving dark pools of shadow in the empty doorways and the rubbish in the street. Far away she could hear the hot whine of tires on asphalt, and somewhere far in the distance there was the sound of an. She looks pretty indeed. But it's not the way shelikes to look at all. She's almost about to cry, "I'm a boy!" on thisman, but something makes her hesitate. Is it because of his hands on hershoulders? Or maybe...Maybe it's because she can't take her eyes off the reflection in themirror. The red haired maid there looks very beautiful indeed. The bracups her full, round breasts as they rose and fall with each breath. Alittle piece of make up makes her lips shine and her cheeks pink. Ranmahas no. More

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