There, he'd learned to tell tales, to 'yarn' as the Australians say. A mixture of truth, embroidery, and downright lying designed to entertain, not in...orm. And 'Oz' was head of the class at 'yarning.'The woman Anarchist took to sitting beside him. She was older than he, maybe mid thirties, and solidly built. She said her name was Catalina and she was from Provence in Southern France. She'd adopted a Spanish name for 'revolutionary purposes, ' whatever that meant. 'Oz' didn't care enough to. By now I had left my teens and began to years for them, men I had fucked as a girl, had died from old age and I began to suspect as I grew older and more sexually experienced, I wished I had known then what I knew now, it would have made my life more interesting for me. Back then surrendering to a man was about his pleasures not my own, I was the curiosity providing the pleasure, milking out of it what I could for myself.I was 22 and it was as if I had stopped growing, stopped maturing, I had. More

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