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A Painter s Erotica
The painting was poorly created, but she barely noticed. They stood together at the same piece, his presence so close and intimate with her shoulders and lower back she wondered if he might get an erection, would she feel it. Such thoughts. She had become a monster of passion and desire and she hated herself for it. She’d never wanted anyone so much in her entire life. Not that that meant much in itself. But the very touch of him against her could send her into a chaos of stupid senseless...