Sentence The Twohundredandfiftieth
And, surprisingly, it was Teri, who found herself rather enjoying the enforced idleness which hung over the cottage and it's temporary residents, between long periods of intense activity during which she both sucked Martin to completion and his great seflfgratulation, and the later highly charged fucking – which she still liked, and all the more so since Martin had been her exclusive partner.; she
really, truly, loved this exclusivity and wondered what it would be like to be married to this Man, who had come through his own childhood pain and emerged stronger – though, she reluctantly admitted, not yet free of the heavy hand of his depraved and antediluvian (Martin's word, not hers, for she didn't understand what it meant, but was impressed that he could use such words so freely and comfortably) Father, who, so long as he lived, would come between his son and any woman he became attached to – and who's passion for Teri had grown considerably since their first encounter in The Gents just a couple of months ago; they had neither of them been back to the Club, though Teri felt slightly guilty and a little tawdry about introducing Laura and her other friends to Ronnie, and then bailed out with Martin after the Launch; and in between dozing in the sun and having frenetic sex with Martin, she had been reading some of the books which filled the bookshelves lining one wall of the living room – most she had never heard of, but she had pulled out a copy of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov and, despite knowing nothing about either, had found herself drawn deeply into the story, which might almost have been her own, and she sensed a profunditfying complexity which seemed to open something before her but still lie rather beyond her full comprehension and she shivered with a frisson of fear as she wondered what would become of both the young girl in the story and the young girl presently reading it, indeed wondered whether it was fiction or, in fact, fact; and it was while she was so immersed that she looked up, eyes scanning the distant trees in search of something incongruous, for her sharp ears had picked up a sound which disturbed her, for it did not belong here, and then her perfect vision caught a peripheral movement which was just as out of place and she focussed on the leaves which her senses indicated as the source and her focus drove into the shadows between them and so it was that she both saw and heard the camera click, the shutter fly across the film, way, way behind the long telephoto lens, the chunky CLICK as it did so, and the tiniest gleam as the darkness behind the lens changed marginally in shade, and she then heard the brief intake of breath, as of someone who has been holding their breath in an effort to control camera-shake; and she guessed instantly that there was a spy out there!
And, surprisingly, it was Teri, who found herself rather enjoying the enforced idleness which hung over the cottage and it's temporary residents, between long periods of intense activity during which she both sucked Martin to completion and his great seflfgratulation, and the later highly charged fucking – which she still liked, and all the more so since Martin had been her exclusive partner.; she
really, truly, loved this exclusivity and wondered what it would be like to be married to this Man, who had come through his own childhood pain and emerged stronger – though, she reluctantly admitted, not yet free of the heavy hand of his depraved and antediluvian (Martin's word, not hers, for she didn't understand what it meant, but was impressed that he could use such words so freely and comfortably) Father, who, so long as he lived, would come between his son and any woman he became attached to – and who's passion for Teri had grown considerably since their first encounter in The Gents just a couple of months ago; they had neither of them been back to the Club, though Teri felt slightly guilty and a little tawdry about introducing Laura and her other friends to Ronnie, and then bailed out with Martin after the Launch; and in between dozing in the sun and having frenetic sex with Martin, she had been reading some of the books which filled the bookshelves lining one wall of the living room – most she had never heard of, but she had pulled out a copy of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov and, despite knowing nothing about either, had found herself drawn deeply into the story, which might almost have been her own, and she sensed a profunditfying complexity which seemed to open something before her but still lie rather beyond her full comprehension and she shivered with a frisson of fear as she wondered what would become of both the young girl in the story and the young girl presently reading it, indeed wondered whether it was fiction or, in fact, fact; and it was while she was so immersed that she looked up, eyes scanning the distant trees in search of something incongruous, for her sharp ears had picked up a sound which disturbed her, for it did not belong here, and then her perfect vision caught a peripheral movement which was just as out of place and she focussed on the leaves which her senses indicated as the source and her focus drove into the shadows between them and so it was that she both saw and heard the camera click, the shutter fly across the film, way, way behind the long telephoto lens, the chunky CLICK as it did so, and the tiniest gleam as the darkness behind the lens changed marginally in shade, and she then heard the brief intake of breath, as of someone who has been holding their breath in an effort to control camera-shake; and she guessed instantly that there was a spy out there!
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