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286 pages, ebook
First published March 25, 2015

He was the most astonishing, extraordinary human being. All his imperfections, his scars, his need to control, his lies, were somehow assembled in such a way, to me, that made imperfect sense. He was a logical disaster.


Bikinis are only for sunbathing. I do no sunbathe. And frankly, it is one of the most irrational activities humans do. Consider for a moment what aliens, landing on Earth, might make of a species that strips off clothing, rubs itself in oil and places itself directly under exposure of harmful UV rays, thus increasing risk of skin cancer threefold?

His nipples were perfectly proportionate circles. He was undoing his pants, and I felt my vagina was moist, already, upon his simple words.

...his black swim trunks clung to him to such an extent that his penis was distinguishable: I estimated five inches long, positioned downward to the left. I wondered if it was erect, since Cosmopolitan magazine said the average penis size, ERECT, is 5.57 inches. No, his penis couldn't be erect right now, I realized, since B said an erect penis points straight ahead or up.





"You'll find, Mr. Knoght, I am not most women."
After a moment, he murmured, "No I see that."
"Right, now just relax right, get used to me," he uttered hoarsely, curling over me, and between kisses on my neck, added, "Because I hope to be there a lot."
He had a good handle on his biological urges to mate.
"You've caught me, ay. I'm yours."
I do not believe it is appropriate or professional to engage in coitus with one's employer.
Arousal was not a mental disorder.
