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The predawn drive up Highway One, for Sam, was like a wet dream, every synapse of his brain inflamed by Eros, carnal love become the background and the foreground for his post-coital mind-set, mental images flush with tableaux of a woman who, apart from cries and moans, maintained an otherworldly silence, as if speech would break the spell her racy gestures, sly expressions, and provocative postures cast throughout a night the like of which he never had experienced—nor would experience again, because the woman...

well-proportioned, average height, a natural redhead (as confirmed by wisps of corn-silk soft, pumpkin-orange pubic hair), endowed with perfect teeth if slightly crooked grin (her left cheek only dimpled), cobalt eyes with lengthy lashes (she, on the cusp of climax, spasmodically  blink-blink-blinked), breasts like Hostess cupcakes (an allusion culled from boyhood) tipped with aureoles flush as freckles and similarly hued, nipples big (at least when suckled, which she greeted with maternal satisfaction, right to left then left to right, demanding equal time for each), her waist dramatic as a dresser-dummy model's, buns below it tight, athletic, bouncy buoyant and fat-free firm (a double handful he massaged, thumbed, plumbed with gusto unrestrained—though she limited his desires with a curious precondition that he retain his drawers no matter what (a vague allusion to some injury he had suffered  precluding actual intercourse), her nether parts prehensile, lips inclined to grip so tightly that his kisses met with kisses, clit a live-wire knob on top that seemed to dilate, throb when fondled, ooze a liquor thick and slick before erupting with convulsions, abdomen subtly round gone taut, its convex curve and deeply dented navel expectantly erogenous, hairdo wild and kinky, sweat-soaked follicles plastering cheeks and glued to waxen temples, droplets splattered when she shook her head like a racehorse run unto exhaustion, yet, regardless her fatigue—her loins licked, mauled masticated, then systematically siphoned— she simply would not quit, in fact recouped steam, renewed fervor, and solicited more-more-more, her thirst for oral sex un-slaked till well past midnight

 

...mistook him (who knows how) for someone he was not, for someone she adored, for someone he (given half a chance) would sell his soul to supplant.

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