It's A Good Country For Myths. Things

Home Is The Place Where They Have To Take You In

I Had One Last Try. "does It Bother You That I'm Not A Virgin?" He Hesitated A Moment Before Answering. "well, No," He Said Slowly, "so Long As It Doesna Bother You That I Am." He Grinned At My Drop-jawed Expression, And Backed Toward The Door. "reckon One Of Us Should Know What They're Doing," He Said. The Door Closed Softly Behind Him; Clearly The Courtship Was Over.

Bedding Her Could Be Anything From Tenderness To Riot, But To Take Her When She Was A Bit The Worse For Drink Was Always A Particular Delight. Intoxicated, She Took Less Care For Him Than Usual; Abandoned And Oblivious To All But Her Own Pleasure, She Would Rake Him, Bite Him - And Beg Him To Serve Her So, As Well. He Loved The Feeling Of Power In It, The Tantalizing Choice Between Joining Her At Once In Animal Lust, Or Of Holding Himself-for A Time- In Check, So As To Drive Her At His Whim.

Well, I Can't Remember Not Being Able To Read. I Was Told I Could Read By Myself Very Well At The Age Of Three.

Sometimes Our Best Action Result In Things That Are Most Regrettable.