What Are You Doing With The Child?"

I Want To Hold You Like A Kitten In My Shirt, And Still I Want To Spread Your Thighs And Plow Ye Like A Rotting Bull. I Dinna Understand Myself.

Are Some People Destined For A Great Fate, Or To Do Great Things? Or Is It Only That They're Born Somehow With That Great Passion - And If They Find Themselves In The Right Circumstances, Then Things Happen? It's The Sort Of Thing You Wonder.

Could I But Lay My Head In Your Lap, Lass. Feel Your Hand On Me, And Sleep Wi' The Scent Of You In My Bed. Christ, Sassenach. I Need Ye.

Bedding Her Could Be Anything From Tenderness To Riot, But To Take Her When She Was A Bit The Worse For Drink Was Always A Particular Delight. Intoxicated, She Took Less Care For Him Than Usual; Abandoned And Oblivious To All But Her Own Pleasure, She Would Rake Him, Bite Him - And Beg Him To Serve Her So, As Well. He Loved The Feeling Of Power In It, The Tantalizing Choice Between Joining Her At Once In Animal Lust, Or Of Holding Himself-for A Time- In Check, So As To Drive Her At His Whim.

Lord That She Might Be Safe. She And My Children.