Orange spines were risky. They mightbe second-rate, frivolous even, and I wanted seriousreading.After Kafka, Flaubert and Plato I felt obliged to wade...nto the Russians. I don’t think I ever finished one andafter all these years I only remember how long it tookcarriages to get our aristocratic hero from the gates of hisestate to the front door of the house. But I do rememberreading an introductory essay on Ivan Turgenev that toldme that at fifteen (my age) a kitchen maid was sent by hismother to. "So, what's it going to be?" I asked. She stayed quiet for a moment, and after a look of what seemed like acceptance, she said "As you wish master, that seems like a fitting punishment." "Good," I replied. "Now how bad do you want it, whore?" "So bad, master. Please fuck my ass. I want to feel your big cock inside my tight little asshole. It's all yours, just take it master." "Are you sure?" I asked. "Is this really what you want?" I pulled my cock out of her pussy and started pushing on her. More

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