Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. She turned and looked at the red LED of the alarm clock that read 3:55. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother.
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