’ His gaze travelled from her face, down to her throat to her breasts. He leaned over her and grabbed the back of her thighs tilting them forward... and spreading them. Chanel arched her back and moaned tilting her head right back as one of his hands touched her wet pussy. ‘Chanel i want you to look at me. I want you to look at me whilst i fuck you.’ She did. He gazed down at her, his own eyes intense and feverish. ‘I want to see your face when i’m inside of you’ He then moved his. Behind them is a stream or pool in which a second woman bathes wrapped in what I can only describe as an ill fitting sheet.I abhor this woman. I cannot understand what Manet was thinking when he ruined this perfect picture with her inclusion. I adore those tangled and murky paths; uncertain and inviting; where a lady may find her honour forcefully plucked from between her creamy legs, where her bosom may heave helplessly and the delicate porcelain skin of her back be rubbed raw on sandpaper. More

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