I am still far from final, it is actually the fourth time I do a variation on this theme and then eventually I will have at least a first chapter. So one of these variations (Or early).
She had brown hair, pulling the red, tiny waist. He had wanted her as he had just come into the room. His member was stretched. His entire being seems to stretch, seek to achieve faster. He closed the door and waited. He needed to touch it, it was so long. She clenched her shoulders when she heard, she knew it was him. She had always had the gift to feel it, read it as if it was transparent. It had thrown in the beginning, he who was so smart, so secret.
He opened his mouth to whisper his name, his hand rose slowly, anticipating the stroke he gave him in a dream already. But she turned suddenly, breaking the daydream, bringing it to the sad reality.
"Go-ho, I do not want to see you Roman, you do not understand?" She threw herself upon him, her eyes red from crying. Since she knows I'm coming thought he bitterly. Formerly, it would have taken her in his arms, the left would hit its small delicate hands, he would have jailed her waist, her hands have caressed her mouth would have sought her lips to silence his weak words of protest . Maybe he would have slid his hand between her legs, or would he thrown on the bed where she would have fallen into submission. All this would change his "no" offended by "yes" begging.
It would have taken and would have wept for joy this time. Past. But not today. His letter had frozen the heart and even if he loved her and wished he could always much more to impose. He could not force her to love him if she said to love another. Even though he knew she still loved him. But why?
A husband that is wrong, we know it, you love dearly, it is attached but it has lost the power of novelty, claiming it was a different matter, regardless of status, its origin (he hated it already), he had power, enough to seduce, lie and dazzle.
another lover than himself, more present, closer, more real so that took away their uniqueness to him, his place as king in her eyes, and especially in his heart. He would have struggled as do the roosters and dogs but it was too dignified for that, even for her. He would not be different from the one she had loved. She told him she still loved him and he did not understand. She loved him so but by default without having a say. She loved as one loves a painting and not what it depicts, much less the artist.
him he loved him from despair because despite everything he had in life, he did it and somebody had made, not worse, she had given. First come, a very intelligent, very charming, a good man probably if we had confidence in the verdict but another man anyway. He had suffered for some time locked up, decided to live without it, to live despite it.
But he could not really, so he had come to see.
And now here he finally understood it was wrong, or that it had hurt, it was another way to live it. It saddened him and he winced. His hand on instinctively to his stomach and then he felt the tears flow without having had time to remember, but despite all his desires to implore her, to keep from getting angry and taking it there he did nothing. He forced a smile and said "I understand, it's probably better that way." It faded slowly, looking to separate their image in the mirror instead of probing eyes, she was like him, blue gray, afraid to see a glimmer of hope, desire. The door closed again without kiss that mouth perfect. The door closes and oblivion took the step. The complete oblivion.
I blinked, slowly at first, seemed to expand the space around me, the air is cool, light invade my vision, blinding me as does the sun when it violates a sick room by opening the curtains. I wore a protective hand to my face, I tried to say the least. My arm hung limply stayed by my side, inert, while the right regained sensation in my body. Pain and ants were spreading through me, I winced. Stiff, I took the time to look around. Insoudable a forest, cool, almost cold, inextricable, tangled, the sun does not penetrate the canopy. I felt like I feel humus far because while she was breathing decay, the decadence.
I coughed, without knowing why, the sun, the freshness, the body resumed his duties an instinctive reaction and protest.
Slowly my eyes veered to his right, running on the plain between me and the forest, I on my stump, the plain was reared in the sun and stretching into the distance, rising in gentle hill where digging a path brown earth. There, the road, there was fate, because I felt the top of the hill drew an innocent cross-timbered inn reassuring, humans, like the smoke that seemed barely perceptible outside the thin chimney.
"You're finally back in the living world? "I jumped on the spot, tried to look back in vain, his legs still asleep and I do not obeyed me m'affallai softly on its side in the grass like a puppet which had played a bad and whose turn it was tired.
I could not remember anything, except the dream, the memory of this love that I already burned the entrails for a woman I did not even know the name. which I did not know nothing except the hair, mouth, eyes, a body that I came to feel almost under my fingers. But the worst is that I knew even less about myself. Panic seized me by the throat. My memory was completely erased.
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