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<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="1" width="100%" class="forumline"> <tr> <th class="thCornerL" width="22%" height="26">Autor</th> <th class="thCornerR">Wiadomość</th> </tr> <tr> <td width="22%" align="left" valign="top" class="row1"><span class="name"><a name=""></a><b>john2072</b></span></td> <td class="row1" height="28" valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td width="100%"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/xeon/images/icon_minipost.gif" width="12" height="9" alt="Post" title="Post" border="0" /><span class="postdetails">Wysłany: Sob 12:53, 12 Lut 2011<span class="gen"> </span> Temat postu: ' 'Ohyou're killing me</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><hr /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><span class="postbody">that I doubted if anyone but me could have understood it. 'Tell meyou bitch <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.mbtshoesfactoryoutlet.com/index.html" target="_blank" class="postlink">mtb shoes clearance</a></span>!' <br />On the path between Jo's studio and the house I stood in the dark with the typewriter in my arms <br />and that dream-spanning erection quivering below its metal bulk — all that ready and nothing <br />willing. Except maybe for the night breeze. Then I became aware I was no longer alone. The <br />shroud-thing was behind mecalled like the moths to the party lights. It laughed-a brazensmoke- <br />broken laugh that could belong to only one woman. I didn't see the hand that reached around my <br />hip to grip me — the typewriter was in the way — but I didn't need to see it to know its color was <br />brown. It squeezedslowly tighteningthe fingers wriggling. <br />'What do you want to knowsugar?' she asked from behind me. Still laughing. Still teasing. 'Do <br />you really want to know at all? Do you want to know or do you want to feel?' <br />'Ohyou're killing me <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.uggclearanceboots.com/" target="_blank" class="postlink">clearance uggs for kids</a></span>!' I cried. The typewriter — thirty or so pounds of IBM Selectric — was <br />shaking back and forth in my arms. I could feel my muscles twanging like guitar strings. <br />'Do you want to know who he wassugar? That nasty man?' <br />'Just do meyou bitch <span style="font-weight: bold"><a href="http://www.cheapjordonsale.com/jordanwomenshighheels/nikejordansheels/" target="_blank" class="postlink">nike high heels</a></span>!' <br />I screamed. She laughed again — that harsh laughter that was almoyilai: <br /><a href="http://www.uggbootsclearancebiz.com" target="_blank" class="postlink">ugg boots clearance</a> <br /> <br /> <br /> <a href="http://onlythebestservices.com/rainyforums1/viewtopic.php?p=29990#29990" target="_blank" class="postlink">eachsyllable</a></span></td> </tr> </table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" height="1" class="spaceRow"><img src="http://picsrv.fora.pl/xeon/images/spacer.gif" alt="" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> </table>
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