facial birthmark
"Look Gorou. Are you gay?" Gorou dragged his eyes from the river and looked again at Sora. He smiled a warm clear smile and Sora lunged for his lips. Gorou gave Sora her answer. He got up and rearranged his jeans to accommodate his hardness and then took Sora's hand. When they reached the hidden alcove they stripped and lay their clothes on the rough concrete and with a lack of gentleness Gorou forced open Sora. They fucked where ever and whenever they could and it seemed to Sora that it was getting better and better. One night pressed to the side of a quiet local shrine Gorou took Sora from behind and without expecting it what Sora had been longing for happened. It struck Sora that these women were all trying to train their men to be good partners but that they invariably failed. And yet because of 'love' they often excused what seemed to Sora the inexcusable and continued with the relationship. Sora's newfound connection with her dorm mates hadn't stopped her despising their shallow outlooks and limited vocabulary. She could empathize with the true meaning of relationship – coital satisfaction and shining admiration, but she just couldn't bring herself to feel even pity for the girls when they spoke in terms of handbags and hairdos, fancy restaurants and expensive presents or worst of all infidelity and begrudging forgiveness. Sora told herself that Gorou was different.
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