I had always been passionate about the South. In my dream, Sicily was always covered in gold. Everything was gold: the golden Baroque cities glistenin... under the glowing sun of August, and far away, the gently rising mountains of Theocritus directing our gaze to Homer's wine-dark sea. Now when I look back at myself at the age of fifteen, I recall only two pieces of literature that lent my monotonous school life a subtle romantic air: A la recherche du temps perdu by Marcel Proust and the. She was a little frightened and a lot excited. "Ohhhh, Beauty! Do you do this to Tammy?"She rolled away from his persistent muzzle and scrambled to her feet. Strands of hay clung to her shirt and hair."You'll get me soon enough, you horny prick."With loving strokes, she caressed his bare back. The muscles rippled underneath the pony's sleek coat. She shivered excitedly, sensing the power in the beautiful animal."Ohhhh," she cooed dreamily. "It's going to be better cumming on your bare back than. More

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