“Why are you always back so late?” she cited in a brassy manner. I answered with silence after closing the door at my back as soft as possible, “Are you going out with girls?” It was the millionth time that she had mentioned this to me.

“Do you still trust me, Jane?” she fell into an abrupt halt, no words came out from both of us, “Should I ask, do you still love me?” her face puffed into crimson red, anger or shame, I gave no regards as I hooked up my coat neatly, arranged my shoes in pairs beside hers, pacing myself up to our room.

She koala hugged me from behind, “I’m sorry…” her voice was tinged with veracity and pitiable. Pulling me into her embrace, I loosened myself into her control, she unravel the buttons of my shirt meticulously, leading me to the dimly lit living room by the couch. Naturally, I succumbed to her tenderness behind her brassy manner.

I turned her around, scraping off her clothes that of a ravaging beast, and a forgiving master. Our clothes were flung across the vicinity, we sprung into a cuddle in the couch, leaving no space between us, “John… I’m so sorry…” her slender hands gripped my broad back.

“You need to be punished.” I hissed light-heartedly, our bodies merged into one as I spoke, myself bleeding into her, we made a world by ourselves, sinking myself into her abyss of love. Increasing my velocity, I fondled with her swifter, with more love. She kept her grip strong as we hit the apogee of our savoury.

Our bodies wearied as we made passionate love. We cuddled each other, relishing the presence of one another, keeping ourselves closer than ever.

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