My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. \" \"Oh, come on!\" Shari exclaimed, putting her cocoa down and burying her face in a fat white pillow. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day.
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