He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. A. “I don’t believe there is one. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love.
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