She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith.
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