“My Mom was a good lady. She learned that she could orgasm four or five times in a day as they toyed with each other and slept entire days afterward without feeling a single pang of guilt. “It is a hateful story. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. "Come along, my sly shaver. This was irregular. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. “You poor little girl!” he cried.
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