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It was Henry David Thoreau, in Walden, who remarked, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” This statement appears to be just as true today as it was then. Perhaps it is even more valid today considering the pressures and frequent monotony of today’s world.
The majority of today’s men and women live in boring circumstances, and when the opportunity for change arises, they are often quick to seize the chance. For the characters in this story, the opportunity is one which many would consider perverse and deranged. But it provides a release and a need. All morals and scruples are cast aside in a moment of madness — a chance to grab pleasure before it is taken away.
THE FLESH TRIANGLE — a novel about the quiet desperation in so many of us and the extremes to which it may drive us.
“Come on,” the redhead said urgently, “one more time, Mike — please, please?”
Mike casually lit a cigarette as he lay naked in bed beside her hot, pleading body. He glanced at his watch in the glow of the match. Ten to two in the morning.
In less than thirty minutes, the hottest piece of ass he’d ever had in his life would walk though his bedroom door. And before she even said hello or unbuttoned her blouse she’d be going down on his huge cock with fierce hot lips and wild moans.
The redhead was whimpering as she stroked his stiffening rod in her warm fist, rubbing her lusty tits passionately to his chest. She was thirty, divorced, and frantically eager to suck and fuck, as if she was running out of time.
“Can’t, baby,” he told her tersely. “My wife will be walking through that door in a little while. I’d strongly suggest you get your hot beautiful ass moving, unless you feel up to ten rounds of bloody infighting.”
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.