There were long since I had not seen much purity and delicacy in the face of a young girl. Her blond curls framing her pretty face and cascading down over her shoulders. It was carefully done hair and was wearing light makeup. His wool coat bent at the waist to let his imagination waist and hips narrow. Her pencil skirt hugged her thighs and hid her knees. His legs were hidden by low black nylon shows no sign of fatigue. No mesh is so tiny she and shimmering color that looked like a velvet skin. Short boots and a matching handbag accompanied her outfit. To top this angelic picture, she wore around his neck a gold chain with a cross as a pendant.
I imagine the quiet that some people must have felt his touch. I thought the image of an angel on the subway would have made me breathe with joy and peace. But my body felt more severe pain. That which could let me stay up. I tortillas on my bench because that vision was instilled in me a picture all at completely unexpected.
The only thing, really, the only thing I could think and to which my mind was trying to break away, it was this desire visceral. A desire so strong that it shook my limbs. Yes. At that moment, I longed to be a man to defile her pretty face of an angel.
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