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Love Stories
An enticing young nude bather on the waters edge. A beautiful hedonistic young girl with a majestic long hairstyle flowing down her back passing her bottom. Her seductive charms assuring that your resistance will be futile. Her elegant body will make almost any male go weak in the knees and turn a lot of female heads. Straight or otherwise. She has that kind of magic power. Her fleshly breasts will certainly turn most men to a quivering mess.
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Love stories L
  Sweet love, renew your strength; that it is not said your edge should be clearer than the appetite, who, but today, feeding is allayed, tomorrow honed in its former power: so, love, be yourself; although today you fill your hungry eyes until they blink with fullness, tomorrow, see again and do not kill the spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. May this sad interim as the ocean be who runs the bank, where two new contracted come every day to the banks, that when they see return of love, more blessed may be the point of view; others call winter, which is full of care makes the summer happier and three times, rarer.  
Love stories LI
  As I am your servant, what are my duties but tend to you on the hours and hours of your desire? I do not have any precious time to spend, neither services to do, until you need. Nor dare to reprimand the endless world time while I, my sovereign, look at the clock for you, neither thinks the bitterness of the sour absence when you offered your servant once goodbye; neither challenge my question with my enviable thought where you can be, or your business suppose, but, as a heartbroken captive, stop and ponder about naught but, where you can be happy to do them. So, a real fool is the affection that in your will, although you do something, he does not think sick.  
Love stories LII
  If there is nothing new, but what is It was before, how are our brains seduced? Who, working for the invention, wear badly the second burden of a former child! Oh, this recording could with a look back, even five hundred courses of the sun, show me your image in an antique book, since the first character mind was made! That I could see what the old world could say to this marvel composed of your frame; if we are repaired, or if they better, or if the revolution is the same. Oh, of course, I am, the spirit of the past for the worst topics have given admiring praise.  
Love stories LIII
  Like when the waves are heading towards the shore of pebbles, so our minutes are rushing to their end; each place changing with the above, in the next job, all the attackers argue. The nativity, once in the main light, ramp to maturity, where to be crowned, twisted elipses win his fight of glory, And the time that gave his gift confuses now. Time transfixes the game of prosperity on youth and plunge the parallels in the forehead of beauty, Feeds on the rarities of the truth of nature, and nothing remains except for his fake to mow: and yet, in the hope, my verses will remain, praying your value, despite his cruel hand.  
Love stories LIV
  Is it your will that your image remains open? My heavy eyelids to the tired night? Do you want my sleep to be broken? While shadows like you are making fun of me? Is it your spirit that you send from you? So far from home in my acts to force, to find shame and hours of inactivity in me, the scope and content of your jealousy? Oh, no! your love, though much, is not so great: it is my love that keeps my eye awake; my own true love that makes my rest win, to play the goalkeeper forever for your good: for you, look at me while you wake up somewhere else, from afar, with the others nearby.  
Love stories LV
  Against my love will be, as I am now, with the abusive hand of time crushed and worn out; when the hours drained his blood and filled his forehead with lines and wrinkles; when his young morning rath travelled on the rugged night of age, and all those beauties of which he is king now go or disappear, steal the treasure from its source; for such a time can I fortify against the cruel knife of confusing age, that he will never cut off memory the beauty of my sweet love, although the life of my lover: his beauty must be seen in these black lines, and they will live, and it will still be.  
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Bather 1870 William Adolphe Bouguereau