My Lady of the Aisles walks so headily between the texts.
Her switch is but a libracation,
Within the words laid down and spread before Us.Such passion there was found in reams. A first edition, pressing, hardcover of what we dare not say.She came at once that very moment as I came to understand.The same turgid truth of mine inside her as we felt the Joy of Next.
A single strand of sunlight dappled gold.
Straining points of tautnesss ,such wicked thoughts kept abreast of learned intercourse amongst these torrid tomes.
My Lady of the Aisles turns each page of Mine with barely a concern.Of these throes of rows and rows in each of Us discovered things . We found on higher shelves.
She reads Me like a dirty book while I take the time to read her full; completely.To such a climax; there are no words to tell the truth.Of what the shushings all about.