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tin house

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

“It was like watching a soccer ball fall through tree branches. It was guaranteed to reach the ground, but how soon and what path it would take to get there were both unpredictable and completely irrelevant. The point was that the ball would hit the earth, and there you’d be.

And there they were, on the bed, her sarong on the floor, his fingers down the front of her bikini bottom and then up, inside her. Her mouth hitting his like a magnet. Her legs locked around his back.”

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