Lust Read Online Free PDF Page A

them to capitulate (marvellous, really, that scourged, purged Nature can still make demands of us). They are put up for the night and read Mickey Mouse comics or other things their fathers haven't approved. They will get sausage in their sleeping bags and feel ill-accommodated. Even cars sometimes crack up in this cold. But we are warm, we are in safety, we are ready for the consecration, at last we are ready to be disillusioned, by our partners. How glad we shall be! Till the manuals on life skills come to offer advice to us, in whom no one can live, telling us not to remain single and peaceful at any cost.
    Father falls upon Mother's piggy bank, where she keeps her secrets hidden away from him. All of the hours of the day, and all the hours of the night, he is the only one who pays in. He is beside himself. Already his sex is almost too heavy to lift. His wife can carry it for a while. In the half
    sleep of the mornings, he's already fumbling at the furrow in her rear while she is still sleeping, from behind he gropes at her soft hillocks, light, where are you, the heart is already wide awake. The tennis match at his club can wait. It's antiseptic there. First, obedient as children, in go two fingers, into the woman, and then the compact firelighter package is stuffed in to follow. The whole music box where our wishes are stored in the memory of the Supreme Being starts playing music into the ethereal realms. All things will be fulfilled. We have a right to expect it will be so. Take a deep breath! We well know what is best, it's back home on the sideboard. The Man takes hold of his wooden ding-a-ling and batters at the woman's astounded rear entry. She can hear the engine of his loins roaring closer from afar. She's beginning to banish all feeling from within her. But there's still room in the boot! And into the boot goes the heavy genital load, don't worry about the smell. The seats can't be kept clean anyway. Blindly the woman cashes in her security from the Man's spitting dispenser. He is milking her breasts. Let us be at home now. The trees have cast down the leafage of the mountains. The evergreen Man, he does not need to seek the woman's protection, he is mantled in goodwill, not a cloud in the sky. How happy property is to dwell with us. There is no better place for it to occupy than our genitals, which gape wide above it like crags above a torrent. In return this woman gets her life paid out in cash, smack on the table every month, for her everyday oven. Tomorrow once more for the child she will open the door from school into life, this too has been purchased by the Man, and he roasts his hefty sausage in her oven, in its flaky pastry case of hair and skin. But the school bus is stuck fast.
    The woman suggests that the child has to eat too. Her husband does not hear. He is leafing abstractedly through his pocket dictionary. The house belongs to him. Already his Word has arrived there and will be taken to heart. He
    opens wide his wife's genitals to see if his signature there is legible. Angrily he drives his tongue in. It is a knack he acquired out of nowhere one day when he returned from the office. Joyous, the Direktor is a god. And soon he will be in the office joking with his secretary. He has to make a good showing! He tries out ever new positions from which to kick his cart down into his wife's quiet waters and start paddling like a maniac. He doesn't need water wings, he'll never pull one of those plastic things over his red head simply to stay in good health. His wife has been healthy for the longest of times anyway. She writhes beneath him and cries out as a whole herd of seeds plunge stampeding from his well-appointed glans. What's the matter. Only someone who need have no worry about a position or income can clink the ice cubes as loud as this.
    This Man, who is now holding his pet tight in the clamp of his thighs, to bite the cheeks and pinch the tits, did after all devise a strategy of his own to cut