I was all over her.I just hugged her closer than even and my head rested on her shoulder. My arms just around her and she lifted herself to the kitchen slab and sat with her legs spread to let me in and I kept fucking her wildly. I didn’t kiss her or bother pressing her boobs. All I wanted to do was fuck when I got the chance. She also hugged me and held me close. And I fucked and fucked. My dick going in and out faster than a car engine piston. Since I had cum once before I think I lasted longer than usual but not more than a couple of minutes.It felt to me like hours and I finally came in her. In that pose. I shivered and held her and crushed her to me in that moment of pleasure. I waited for a few more moments and finally let her go only after my dick slipped out her pussy automatically.She kept quiet. Didn’t even look at me. Silently she got down from where she sat and pulled down her skirt and went to clean herself. Didn’t even look back at me standing there with my shorts down. ..”“Don’t be catty.”“Sorry. I’ve been reading and think I’ve another side to bite into.”“Tell me. But try not to mix too many metaphors.”“OK. Anyway, I was looking at Williams’ old book Television [1974]. He says [she read] ‘The photograph is in one sense a popular extension of the portrait’. But that’s only true in a very limited sense. I think people in general took far more photos of places – houses, trees, mountains – than of people. Think of post cards. People go to the shore or to a park and buy pictures of the area, not of other people in the area. And while there are lots of portraits painted in the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, there are many landscapes and seascapes.”“Well, you’ve got a valid point. But don’t get over-involved in it. Mention it, cite this chap...”“Raymond Williams.”“Right. Cite him, but don’t let it be a stumbling block. You are writing about Dupain, after all. Can we get back to Al?”“I don’t know what else there is to say.”“Are you going to see.
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