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Murder Is But A Memory

by

The early morning light flooded the room, and my mind was swept away in the tidal wave. Back to last night. The passion and lust, flesh against flesh, lips against lips, fingers laced, hand squeezing hand. Our bodies moving in perfect rhythm as our gentle moans harmonized to create a symphony of ecstasy unmatched in the annals of music.

I looked down at this gorgeous creature lying naked in my arms, so helpless, so fragile, yet so confident in what she wanted. I only hoped when her memory returned that she could live with what we'd done the night before.

2 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 8 years ago

    Very well dealt with, avoiding making too much of his moral dilemma. The reflective description of the night's passion is very appropriate to the story's style.

  • avatar

    Christopher over 8 years ago

    Thanks, Neville. I appreciate the encouragement, and you sticking with me. This thing has grown so much and is still expanding. It's went way beyond what I originally envisioned.

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