"Never mind," replied the tapstress. Her hips were wide and her athletic legs supported a very large rear end, which she flaunted by 140 wearing her gym shorts two sizes too small. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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