The Firm

April 13. It was an unusually hot morning for that early spring. The traffic in the small Mantua had not yet fully awakened and in the streets rare sleepy passers-by hurried for the first coffee of the day. For a moment you were almost tempted not to wear socks. You loved to feel the breeze of the air slip under the skirt, its light vortex that caressed your legs coming to gently pinch the thick black curls of the pubis, eager to emerge from the narrow handkerchief that…



Dreamer, Speaker, Doer — Writer of erotic short stories.

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