Creta Ur Own Wrestling Belt

Carole had twisted his foot while leaving the elevator, one must say that his golden sandals were awfully high but the first thing which had fallen under the foot before exiting. She had seen the baker looked like an owl in daylight woke, but she was not able to do otherwise with his round eyes.

Returning, she saw Fred in the couch, sprawled like a Turkish Delight, the tousled hair and she had taken upon herself not to pounce on him, because she was dressed like a skank and that she did not ease.
She had noticed marks on the coffee table, round glass, and she thought he should clean it later. For now, she wanted a tea.

When Fred had asked to see her breasts when she told him mine dazed from the Baker looked like a poor owl deprived of sleep, she realized he was not listening, or more, and this irritated him a detail quarter of a second. But no more, because Carole knew the value of things.
And the look of Fred put on his chest was like a warm ray of sunshine just for her. Should not overlook the moments of magic.

Carole particularly liked his bowls red with white spots. She also took care to put them on the sink when Fred got up and stood behind her and embrace her. It was as a still life with his Americanizing bulk tank and she remarked to Fred, who, in his opinion, totally did not care, he absorbed everything he was kneading her breasts. Fred did not know to look sometimes.

The sun had gone around the room and came wandering into the kitchen. He did that every day, pointing to the corner of the window to 13 hours in July, rising like a laser beam that was drying on the dishes upside down or on apricots in a glass bowl.
That day, he fell on gold flakes that seemed suspended in a vacuum, sequins to dance jerkily, which proved to be the sandals after leg Carole maintained that Fred V triumphantly before him. The sun could not understand clearly.
Carole clung to the table trembled in his back.

She fleetingly thought back to the coffee table that we should think about cleaning up later. And then she fixed her smiling Fred, without understanding why he clung more firmly to his ankles. His shoes princess flashed in the kitchen.

continued ...