This book is hot. A trashy, sleazy, *full-length* (100+ Pages) post-censorship erotic novel. But, if you really want, here's the briefest of excerpts:
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Nadine with her innocence, and I with all my experience, were equally at a loss. Most girls lose their cherry in some furtive backseat stabbing that gives their man little pleasure and them none at all. Those who preserve it for a gala production-a rape on satin sheets with champagne growing stale in one corner-don't fare much better. Girls are usually so worried about making their rapist happy that they have little time to think of themselves. When they do, they're usually just lying there, bleeding slightly, wondering why so damn much bullshit is written about something that hurts a little and would probably hurt more if it wasn't over faster than Bugs Bunny seducing a carrot.
Now Nadine was rich. What could money buy her?
The biggest cock would only hurt.
The handsomest male with the most sex appeal, best technique, greatest staying power? Any good-looking broad with a modicum of luck could get that for free. During my last days, Nadine read to me from Havelock-Ellis. We puzzled our way through Krafft-Ebing's dirty sock chewers. We put our heads together and I nuzzled tender tits while she read from the Kama Sutra, The Perfumed Garden, some of the Chinese works. Was there nothing new under the sun?
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Nadine with her innocence, and I with all my experience, were equally at a loss. Most girls lose their cherry in some furtive backseat stabbing that gives their man little pleasure and them none at all. Those who preserve it for a gala production-a rape on satin sheets with champagne growing stale in one corner-don't fare much better. Girls are usually so worried about making their rapist happy that they have little time to think of themselves. When they do, they're usually just lying there, bleeding slightly, wondering why so damn much bullshit is written about something that hurts a little and would probably hurt more if it wasn't over faster than Bugs Bunny seducing a carrot.
Now Nadine was rich. What could money buy her?
The biggest cock would only hurt.
The handsomest male with the most sex appeal, best technique, greatest staying power? Any good-looking broad with a modicum of luck could get that for free. During my last days, Nadine read to me from Havelock-Ellis. We puzzled our way through Krafft-Ebing's dirty sock chewers. We put our heads together and I nuzzled tender tits while she read from the Kama Sutra, The Perfumed Garden, some of the Chinese works. Was there nothing new under the sun?