“How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. As he felt the threshold of soft wetness he froze and said, “Lucy, are you sure?” She whispered, “Yes,” and guided the top of his penis into her vagina. His name was Peter. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him.
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