It was Sunday, winter morning, not long that I remember. Captivated in my elation. Inside that woody cottage where I locked myself in for the vacation. The surrounding was covered with snow and the sun was on its glaze but seemed to have lost its power to burn. I stood by the window, embraced myself because of the cold freezing wind, clothed in muslin silky robe. Dithering on my sensual approach, there he entered with no signs but silence, his hands across my belly, his chin pinned on my left shoulder as I heard the silence in the air, I pushed him to the bed and made out with him in my best form.
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