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Carpenter Leonard Conan 052 Conan nieposkromiony
Carpenter Leonard Conan 037 Conan wyrzutek
Carpenter Leonard Conan 033 Conan wielki
Carpenter Leonard Conan 050 Conan gladiator
Concierto barroco Alejo Carpentier
Castro, Adam Troy Andrea Cort Die dritte Klaue Gottes
Barczynski Adam Zbior opowiadan
Baker, Adam Wandlung
Barbara Phinney Desperate Rescue (epub)
[heft] Perry Rhodan 0539 Experiment der Cynos

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."He would grab at the thick blanket of hair that coated his lover's chest, the mat drenched from sweaty sex, fuller, darker, somehow hairier, and he could cry out now how badly he needed his furry, fabulous lover to fuck him, fast, furious, “yes, my fucker, fill me up, fulfill me,” he would cry, and then, finally, orgasm would build inside him, inside them, and he would shoot, they both would.An explosion would then rip through the room.It wasn't a powerful shot of white, ropey come.It would be thick, gooey, and red.It was blood.He would look into his lover's face, and it wasn't the one he expected to see.No, it was the other one, and he wanted him again, again, perhaps even more so than he did the man he loved.no, this one he wanted him more, this one he desired with an inner quake.“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.”The scream shook him awake, and that's when Marc Anderson shot up in bed to find his body sweaty, the sheets drenched.This was not an overly unusual occurrence, not when you shared your bed with the sexy Rich North, whose thick cock was always the first to awaken, poking at Marc's butt, wanting him, pushing into him.What would follow would be acrobatic, energetic sex, urgent grunts that would greet the day, Marc relishing the touch of his lover's hairy body atop him while waiting for his own delicious orgasm.At the thought of glistening, hot sex with Rich, heat washed over Marc's lithe frame and his eyes darted about.“Shit,” he said to no one.He'd had the dream again, which alone could account for the sweat-drenched sheets that were tangled around his naked self.But there were other reasons.Rich was not here, not in their king size bed and not anywhere in the house they shared at the edge of Eldon Court.Things had changed, life had.Marc got out of bed, just as he had all this past week, with little enthusiasm and no desire to get anything accomplished.Life would never be the same, and not just for him and Rich.But he rose and went through his morning routine as best he could, starting with coffee.With a fresh, steaming cup in his hands, he made his way toward the outside porch, where he noticed his neighbor, Parker, down the street shirtless, his powerful chest on full display, thick with dark brown hair, clad only in cut-off shorts, the muscles of his thick, furred forearms bulging as he dug in the garden beside the house.That was odd, why do work on a house that wasn't even officially yours? Not wanting to catch his attention, not after his recurring dream, Marc went back upstairs, all the way to his artist's studio on the third floor.Truth be known, this was his first visit to his studio since the gallery showing last week, and as he opened the door he was hit with a musty smell.Like it had been closed off for years, not just a mere week.He lifted the shades to allow the bright morning sunshine to spread its rays on the hardwood floor, then opened the windows wide to let in the briny smell of the ocean.Again, he caught sight of Parker, and this time he watched from behind the curtain.Since his arrival in Wonderland, Parker St.John had been flirting with Marc, toying with the obvious heat between them.But as hot as Parker was, with his chest coated by a thick dark pelt just begging to be stroked and a noticeable bulge in his pants, Marc knew he just wasn't the cheating kind.Unlike Rich, the player.But Rich had promised no more playing around, they were in this life together, alone.He had made that promise just hours before being shot.Shot.Christ, what was becoming of Wonderland?Gazing about his empty studio, a remorseful Marc Anderson could hardly believe what had happened was reality; couldn't it have been a dream—a nightmare, actually—like the one that soaked his sheets and woke him scared and alone in the middle of the night? For one second Marc looked out another window that faced Number Three, knowing that the person inside felt alone too.As much as Marc had reached out to him, his friend remained closed down [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]