He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. She moved a little nearer to him. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. Very dark, like yours, ma’am. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. .
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