You both laughed at the same time. The night before - before you had gone to the professor's burial - you and she had made love as you had in the old days, and when you felt the beat of your own heart as you ran your tongue across Dolores's soft stomach, her firm thighs, her hidden and moist sex, you thought about the fateful news of President Falleres in the arms of his mistress. Was not an orgasm a small death perhaps?
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Marks Of Identity - pg. 99
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