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Sunny has a surprise inside that Jan does not.  Maybe it’s hidden in her raptor toe.  Cloaked, the surprise leaps out to throw you down and tear at you, fear clawing you to excitement, locked in the hard vise of hardening terror.  You fear you might lose a limb–or THE limb–because you’ve never be so close to manic before.  Oh yes, there are going to be marks, hickies, scratches; as it happens you don’t really care about being torn between self-preservation and pleasure.  Sweat and blood, all salt, mixes on your lips; a volcano erupting as you hang on for dear life as both victim and assailant.  When it’s over Sunny looks at you as if nothing happened, the event existing purely in its indulgence.


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