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Table of contents
CONTENTS
LESSON-1-2
LESSON-3
LESSON-4.1
LESSON-4.2
LESSON-5.1
LESSON-5.2
LESSON-6.1
LESSON-6.2
LESSON-7.1
LESSON-7.2
LESSON-7.3
LESSON-8
LESSON-9
LESSON-10.1
LESSON-10.2
LESSON-11
LESSON-12
LESSON-13.1
LESSON-13.2
LESSON-14
LESSON-15.1
LESSON-15.2
Contraception
The Sex Life of the Gods. Michael Knerr. CHAPTER-1
CHAPTER-2-3
CHAPTER-4
CHAPTER-5-6
CHAPTER-7-8
CHAPTER-9-10
CHAPTER-11-12
CHAPTER-13-14
CHAPTER-15-16
CHAPTER-17-18-19

lips beat aside all the problems that swirled about his muddled mind and 

awakened the desire and need that had lain dormant within him all this 

time. 

 

"Darling," she breathed, when he had pulled his mouth from hers. "Oh, 

Lors..." 

 

"Shhh." 

 

There was no need for talking, no sense in it at all. Her body mashed up 

against him and he allowed his hands to smooth down over the material of 

her dress, along the curve of her spine to the twin globes of her 

buttocks. Her mouth lifted to his again, eager, demanding, while her 

fingers dug through his tunic and into his flesh with a sharp need that 

thrilled him. 

 

Her hand reached behind him, her fingers finding the light button and 

suddenly the room was sheathed in the soft cloak of darkness. Only the 

tiny nightlight gleamed like a small, yellow eye in the center of the 

ceiling. She spoke to him, without removing her lips, her breath hot and 

demanding against his mouth. 

 

"I don't want to wait any longer, darling," she panted, "not another 

minute." 

 

His arms slid around her, lifting her at the shoulders and the thighs to 

carry her to the bed, but she twisted away from him, whirling off into a 

darkened corner of the room where the yellow light could not touch. He 

could hear the sigh of the toga-like robe as she whipped it away from 

her soft flesh. Then she stood there, before him, framed in the alluring 

gold of the circle of light. 

 

Lors felt his breath suck inward at the sight of her, standing there 

nude. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered and he felt 

shaken, to the very roots of his being. 

 

The smooth curve of her shoulders glowed in the light and her face was 

kissed by shadows. The arching lift of her breasts and the impassioned 

nipples threw a wash of dark shadow downward over the flat of her 

stomach and the lithe curve of her thighs. With the light covering the 

beauty of her face, Jela lost her identity. 

 

She was woman. Period. 

 

Any and all, from time immemorial, or immoral, perhaps. She was somehow, 

standing there, a composite of every woman who had ever drawn a breath. 

She was the best of woman, the choicest parts of all women since the 

dawn of time, suddenly thrown together in a high breasted, slim waisted 

creation that was being offered to him, only to him. 

 

And Lors? 

 

It moved in him, churned through his guts like a forest fire. He was 

man! All men, glaring with the red eyes of passion at all women. He too, 

in the wash of lust that had swept over him, lost his identity and he 

didn't give a damn. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that she 


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