Frontiers Flint MurdockChapter 7 Desecration
My room on the third floor — our room, I guess — had a rocking chair, a handsome walnut job that Rebecca had comforted up with a thick pillow filled with goose down and a red cover she stitched together herself. I liked to sit on it of an evening and sip a sip or two of Jameson. Rebecca had taken to undressing and then straddling me when she was in a certain mood. We put that chair through some pretty fast paces. Sometimes, when we’d finished, she’d squeeze me, keeping me corralled until all...