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Cursed to Crave my Brother’s Cock


Copyright 2012 By JB Richards


Smashwords Edition


Tricia milled about the store, her slow steps shuffling as her gaze flicked across the dusty shelves. The cramped shop smelled richly, of ancient leather-bound books, authentic beeswax candles, and other, more pungent aromas. The wooden shelves were crammed full of trinkets, jars and books. Unlike most “new age” sort of stores that peddled crystals on chains and a thousand Wiccan books, this shop gave her a tense feeling in her shoulders. Tricia shivered slightly as she continued her perusal, mostly out of some sort of morbid curiosity than a burning need to buy anything.

The store clerk watched her with a critical eye, making Tricia feel like she was some sort of thief-in-waiting. The woman was short and curvy, wearing blacks and purples so dark that they nearly vanished in the shadows by the register. The air was hazed with incense, though it was sweet and invigorating to Tricia. She flashed the clerk with what she hoped was a disarming grin, but the scowl the woman wore only deepened. Boy, Tricia thought, flicking her eyes back to the musty shelves beside her. It doesn’t really pay to be nice to people any more.

She paused and angled her head to read the cursive, hand-lettered titles on the spines of some ancient tomes, but she couldn’t make out the characters. Tricia frowned, and picked one up at random. The leather creaked as she opened the book, a scent of dust and age temporarily overpowering the incense that wafted about the shop. The pages were yellowed and dark, and the material was thicker than paper, and coarse. Harsh, angular writing covered each page in neat, cramped rows - and was just as unintelligible as the titles. She sighed and slid it back into place.

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