The chains that more press are us the ones that less weigh
Delivers alone a graze. An it graze of lips that leave me restless and uneasy. I close the eyes and I cannot stop to dream, to recall their hands burned traveling through my back tattooed. A gallows in my neck would leave me tranquil and would close my eyes by life. It reclined in the bed of savannahs spent I recognize its smell and the texture of its tongue in my neck. I scratch myself the face and I grind the knuckles of my hands to blows against the wall of adobe electrified. It chewed it of dog observes me since the crack reign of the large house and since its mouth leaves a shell of banana. The sounds of metals have been extinguished and the chains hitch my hands to leaving them dwellings and destroyed. The bandages cover me the arms and part of my sex. I do not remember anything. I look at my hands and the nails are white being thrown against my thighs. No longer pleasure causes me, alone I feel pain. This agony is a comparable alone torture with the robbery of the palette of caramel in the day after Christmas to a boy of three years abandoned by its parents.
Kamasutra
Kamasutra
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