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balong:
"When we first said hello,the way you looked at me, the things it did to me....you could have had me there and then."

"I'm going to have you now," Leon said. He led her back up the beach to where the sand was dry. Then he took off his coat,placed on the ground and she lay down upon it.

"Christ!" he muttered, placing himself on top of her. "I'ts bloody cold, I might get frostbite on my cock."

She gave a low purring laugh. "Silly man. Why don't you put it somewhere hot?"

He reached down and she opened her legs and lifted her bottom off the ground so that he could tug her skirt up around her hips and pull her knickers down her legs. She kicked them off and his hand felt for the soft, hot, wet, yielding core of her.Then it was her turn to feel for his fly buttons and the slit in his underpants and then she had him in his hands and he sprang free from the clothes that had confined him and she guided him into her, groaning with pleasure as she took him again.

Now he didn't give a damn about the cold. He couldn't care less that they were right out in the open. All Leon cared about was his love and his desire for his woman. He wanted her to feel it and know it in ways that went far beyond words. He wanted her to take pleasure in him and from him and his whole being was focused on her,all his senses alert to every sound,every movement he made. He kissed her and the boundaries between them blurred,joining as one to create something entirely new.She was his woman now and they would never be divided.

"Marry me,"he said. "Please,I beg you. Marry me."

"OH GOD." she moaned. "Yes" and then, her voice rising with every repitition. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"



...from the novel War Cry by Wilbur Smith. Described by Stephen King as "the best historical novelist" WILBUR SMITH made his debut in 1964
with When the Lion Feeds and has since sold more than 125 million copies of his books worldwide and been translated into 26 different languages.
Born in Central Africa,he now lives in London.

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wardiflex:
di matabang Sir Bals, Maajong Pasko Diha, sa Malamig, pangita ug pangpainit...hahahha

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balong:
naa ni sumpay wards nga mas "lami" pa  . ATANGI

                   

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balong:


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balong:
        She walked slowly and steadily, just in case anyone should be watching, until she got to his room. The door was very slightly ajar. She pushed it open and there he was. He kicked the door closed as he took her in his arms and kissed her, hard, not hesitating for a single second.
        Saffron gave a muffled moan as their mouths locked together. His lips and his tongue were strong and assertive, as though they were taking possession of her, and she yielded to him, giving herself without restraint, exploring his body and his face with her hands, taking in the man smell of him, pressing herself against him and thrilling to the sure sign of his arousal.  She has been kissed before, but it had not excited her. She had felt a man's erection before, but just felt amusement, embarrasment or repulsion. She had ridden all her life and did not need to be told about the delicious, tingly, melty feeling of having an an animal between her thighs or rubbing her crotch against the saddle.
        But this was totally different. This was raw, animal passion and she knew that she had provoked that feeling in him too, and that sense of achievement, of power over him only aroused her all the more.
        They had barely got more than a couple of steps into the room, but neither of them could even wait to get to the bed. He shoved her up against the wall and, still kissing her, pulled her hat from ger head, and threw it to the floor. She gave a shake of a head to release her hair and he ran his fingers through it and then clenched his fist, grabbing a handful. She moved her head and that pulled at her hair and made it hurt a little so she tried to shake free, but she didn't want to succeed and he didn't let her. Now his other hand lifted her skirt with practiced dexterity. She lifted her bottom  forward away from the wall to make it easier for him and the higher the fabric rose and the more exposed and utterly vulnerable she felt, the more excited she became.

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