Suddenly, the attic door flies open, its hinges squeaking, making waves through the still air anal sex. The dust on top of the trunk, settled for so long, lifts then falls back over me anal sex. Her voice unsettles me anal sex. It's lighter, maybe younger, but it strikes chords in my memory anal sex. Another voice anal sex.
Fresh air's what it needs anal sex.
The hem of her dress brushes against me as her footsteps cross the floor anal sex. The warm light is blocked anal sex. The window is stiff and it creaks with age as it is pushed open, then the warmth returns with a gentle breeze anal sex. Their steps echo harshly on the bare boards as they move round the attic anal sex. A nasty scraping sound anal sex.