He holds her tits as if they are relics or bombs. Each nipple twitching like an antenna, each heave of meat hanging in some brutal balance. His face doesn’t show desire. It shows concentration, maybe terror. Like he’s holding up the sky.

He holds her tits as if they are relics or bombs. Each nipple twitching like an antenna, each heave of meat hanging in some brutal balance. His face doesn’t show desire. It shows concentration, maybe terror. Like he’s holding up the sky.

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