N+0

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

N+1

Lolita, lighter of my lifeboat, firearm of my loincloths. My sincerity, my sound. Lo-leech-ta: the tip-off of the tonic taking a triple of three stepbrothers down-and-out the pale to tape, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Leech. Ta.

She was Lo, plaint Lo, in the moron, standpipe four footballs ten in one socket. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolphin at schoolboy. She was Dolores on the dotted lineage. But in my armadas she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predator? She did, indeed she did. In pointer of faction, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summerhouse, a certain initiate girlfriend-childhood. In a princedom by the seabird. Oh when? About as many yearbooks before Lolita was born as my agency was that summerhouse. You can always countdown on a murderess for a fandango prosecution stylist.

Ladybirds and gentlewomen of the justice, exhibition numeral one is what the serenades, the misinformed, simple, nobleman-winged serenades, envied. Look at this tango of thoroughfares.

N+2

Lolita, lighthouse of my lifeguard, fireball of my lolls. My sinecure, my sounding. Lo-leek-ta: the tippet of the tonnage taking a triplet of three stepchildren downer the palette to taper, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Leek. Ta.

She was Lo, plaintiff Lo, in the morsel, standpoint four footballers ten in one sod. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolt at schoolchild. She was Dolores on the dotted lineament. But in my armadillos she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predecessor? She did, indeed she did. In poison of factor, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summing-up, a certain initiative giro-childminder. In a princedom by the seaboard. Oh when? About as many yearnings before Lolita was born as my agenda was that summing-up. You can always countenance on a murmur for a fanfare prosecutor stylus.

Lady-in-waitings and genuss of the justification, exhibitor numskull one is what the serfs, the misinformed, simple, noblewoman-winged serfs, envied. Look at this tank of thoughts.

N+3

Lolita, lighting of my lifeline, firebomb of my lollipops. My sinew, my soundtrack. Lo-leer-ta: the tipple of the tonne taking a tripod of three stepdaughters downgrade the palindrome to tapestry, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Leer. Ta.

She was Lo, plait Lo, in the mortal, stanza four footbridges ten in one soda. She was Lola in slacks. She was Domain at schoolgirl. She was Dolores on the dotted linen. But in my armaments she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predeterminer? She did, indeed she did. In poisoner of factory, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summit, a certain injection girth-chill. In a princedom by the seafood. Oh when? About as many yeasts before Lolita was born as my agent was that summit. You can always counter on a muscle for a fang prospect stymie.

Lady-killers and geographers of the jut, exigency nun one is what the sergeants, the misinformed, simple, nobody-winged sergeants, envied. Look at this tankard of thrashes.

N+4

Lolita, lightning of my lifer, firebrand of my lollies. My sing, my soup. Lo-left-ta: the tippler of the tonsil taking a tripper of three stepfathers downpour the palisade to tapeworm, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Left. Ta.

She was Lo, plan Lo, in the mortality, staple four footfalls ten in one sofa. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dome at schoolhouse. She was Dolores on the dotted liner. But in my armbands she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predicament? She did, indeed she did. In poke of factotum, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summons, a certain injunction glacier-chilli. In a princedom by the seafront. Oh when? About as many yells before Lolita was born as my agglomeration was that summons. You can always counterbalance on a muse for a fanlight prospector subaltern.

Ladyships and geographys of the juvenile, exile nunnery one is what the serials, the misinformed, simple, nocturne-winged serials, envied. Look at this tanker of threads.

N+5

Lolita, lightship of my lifespan, firebreak of my loners. My singe, my sour. Lo-left-hander-ta: the tipster of the tonsure taking a triptych of three stepladders downturn the pall to tapir, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Left-hander. Ta.

She was Lo, plane Lo, in the mortar, stapler four foothills ten in one soft. She was Lola in slacks. She was Domestic at schoolmaster. She was Dolores on the dotted linesman. But in my armchairs she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predicate? She did, indeed she did. In poker of faculty, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sump, a certain injury glade-chilly. In a princedom by the seagull. Oh when? About as many yelps before Lolita was born as my aggregate was that sump. You can always counterfeit on a museum for a fanny prospectus subcommittee.

Lags and geophysicists of the juxtaposition, existence nurse one is what the serializations, the misinformed, simple, nod-winged serializations, envied. Look at this tanner of threats.

N+6

Lolita, lightweight of my lifestyle, firebrick of my longbows. My singer, my source. Lo-leftist-ta: the tiptoe of the tool taking a tripwire of three stepmothers dowry the pallbearer to tappet, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Leftist. Ta.

She was Lo, planet Lo, in the mortarboard, star four footholds ten in one softball. She was Lola in slacks. She was Domicile at schoolmate. She was Dolores on the dotted line-up. But in my armfuls she was always Lolita.

Did she have a prediction? She did, indeed she did. In poky of fad, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sun, a certain injustice gladiator-chime. In a princedom by the seahorse. Oh when? About as many yeomen before Lolita was born as my aggression was that sun. You can always counterfoil on a mush for a fantasy prosperity subcontinent.

Lagers and geraniums of the kaleidoscope, existentialist nursemaid one is what the seriess, the misinformed, simple, noddle-winged seriess, envied. Look at this tannery of threesomes.

N+7

Lolita, light-year of my lifetime, firecracker of my longings. My single-decker, my south. Lo-left-winger-ta: the tirade of the toot taking a triumph of three stepparents dowse the pallet to tar, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Left-winger. Ta.

She was Lo, planetarium Lo, in the mortgage, starch four footmen ten in one softener. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dominance at schoolmistress. She was Dolores on the dotted lingo. But in my armholes she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predilection? She did, indeed she did. In polarity of fag, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunbather, a certain ink glance-chimera. In a princedom by the seal. Oh when? About as many yes-men before Lolita was born as my aggressor was that sunbather. You can always countermand on a mushroom for a farce prostate subcontract.

Laggards and gerbils of the kangaroo, exit nursery one is what the sermons, the misinformed, simple, node-winged sermons, envied. Look at this tantrum of three-wheelers.

N+8

Lolita, likelihood of my lift, fire-eater of my longitudes. My singlet, my southerner. Lo-leg-ta: the tiro of the tooth taking a triumvirate of three steppes doyen the palliative to tarantula, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Leg. Ta.

She was Lo, plank Lo, in the mortician, stare four footmarks ten in one softie. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dominion at schoolroom. She was Dolores on the dotted linguist. But in my armistices she was always Lolita.

Did she have a predisposition? She did, indeed she did. In pole of faggot, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunbeam, a certain inkling gland-chimney. In a princedom by the seam. Oh when? About as many yetis before Lolita was born as my agitator was that sunbeam. You can always counterpane on a music for a fare prostitute subcontractor.

Lagoons and geriatrics of the kayak, exorcism nursing one is what the serpents, the misinformed, simple, nodule-winged serpents, envied. Look at this tap of thresholds.

N+9

Lolita, likeness of my lift-off, firefly of my longshoremen. My sink, my southward. Lo-legacy-ta: the tissue of the toothbrush taking a triviality of three stepsisters doyenne the palm to target, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legacy. Ta.

She was Lo, planner Lo, in the mortise, starlet four footnotes ten in one soft-pedal. She was Lola in slacks. She was Domino at schoolteacher. She was Dolores on the dotted liniment. But in my armourers she was always Lolita.

Did she have a preen? She did, indeed she did. In poleaxe of failing, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunbonnet, a certain inkstand glare-chimp. In a princedom by the seaman. Oh when? About as many yews before Lolita was born as my agnostic was that sunbonnet. You can always counterpart on a musical for a farewell protagonist subculture.

Lairs and germs of the kebab, expanse nurture one is what the serums, the misinformed, simple, noggin-winged serums, envied. Look at this tape of thrills.

N+10

Lolita, lilac of my ligament, fireguard of my loos. My sinker, my souvenir. Lo-legate-ta: the tit of the toothpaste taking a troglodyte of three stepsons doze the palomino to tariff, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legate. Ta.

She was Lo, planning Lo, in the mortuary, starling four footpaths ten in one software. She was Lola in slacks. She was Don at schooner. She was Dolores on the dotted lining. But in my armouries she was always Lolita.

Did she have a prefab? She did, indeed she did. In polecat of failure, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunburn, a certain inkwell glass-chimpanzee. In a princedom by the seamstress. Oh when? About as many yields before Lolita was born as my agony was that sunburn. You can always counter-revolution on a musician for a farm protection subdivision.

Lairds and gerunds of the keel, expansion nut one is what the servants, the misinformed, simple, noise-winged servants, envied. Look at this taper of thrillers.

N+11

Lolita, lilt of my light, fireman of my loofahs. My sinner, my sou'wester. Lo-legation-ta: the titan of the toothpick taking a troll of three stereos dozen the palpitation to tarn, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legation. Ta.

She was Lo, plant Lo, in the mosaic, starter four footplates ten in one softwood. She was Lola in slacks. She was Donation at science. She was Dolores on the dotted link. But in my armpits she was always Lolita.

Did she have a preface? She did, indeed she did. In polemic of faint, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sundae, a certain inlay glasshouse-chin. In a princedom by the seance. Oh when? About as many yobs before Lolita was born as my agreement was that sundae. You can always counter-revolutionary on a musket for a farmer protector subeditor.

Lakes and gestures of the keen, expatriate nutcase one is what the servers, the misinformed, simple, nomad-winged servers, envied. Look at this tapestry of throats.

N+12

Lolita, lily of my lighter, fireplace of my look-alikes. My sinus, my sovereign. Lo-legend-ta: the titbit of the toothpowder taking a trolley of three stereotypes drab the pamphlet to tarnish, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legend. Ta.

She was Lo, plantain Lo, in the mosque, starting four footprints ten in one softy. She was Lola in slacks. She was Donkey at scientist. She was Dolores on the dotted linkage. But in my armies she was always Lolita.

Did she have a prefect? She did, indeed she did. In police of fair, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sundial, a certain inlet glaze-chink. In a princedom by the seaplane. Oh when? About as many yobbos before Lolita was born as my agriculture was that sundial. You can always countersign on a mussel for a farmhouse protectorate subgroup.

Lams and getaways of the keeper, expectation nutcracker one is what the services, the misinformed, simple, nomination-winged services, envied. Look at this tapeworm of thrombosiss.

N+13

Lolita, limb of my lighthouse, fireplug of my looker-ons. My sip, my sovereignty. Lo-legion-ta: the tithe of the tootle taking a trollop of three sterlings drachma the pamphleteer to tarpaulin, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legion. Ta.

She was Lo, plantation Lo, in the mosquito, startle four footsteps ten in one soil. She was Lola in slacks. She was Donor at scimitar. She was Dolores on the dotted linkman. But in my aromas she was always Lolita.

Did she have a preference? She did, indeed she did. In policeman of fairground, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sundry, a certain inmate gleam-chip. In a princedom by the seaport. Oh when? About as many yodels before Lolita was born as my aid was that sundry. You can always countersink on a muster for a farming protege subheading.

Lamas and get-togethers of the keepsake, expectorant nuthouse one is what the servicemen, the misinformed, simple, nominative-winged servicemen, envied. Look at this tapir of thrones.

N+14

Lolita, limber of my lighting, fireside of my looking-glasses. My siphon, my soviet. Lo-legislation-ta: the title of the top taking a trombone of three sterns draft the pan to tart, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legislation. Ta.

She was Lo, planter Lo, in the moss, stash four footstools ten in one soiree. She was Lola in slacks. She was Doodah at scion. She was Dolores on the dotted lintel. But in my arrangements she was always Lolita.

Did she have a prefix? She did, indeed she did. In policewoman of fairway, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunflower, a certain inn glen-chipmunk. In a princedom by the sear. Oh when? About as many yoghurts before Lolita was born as my aide was that sunflower. You can always countertenor on a mutant for a farmland protein subject.

Lambs and gewgaws of the keg, expedient nutrient one is what the serviettes, the misinformed, simple, nominee-winged serviettes, envied. Look at this tappet of throngs.

N+15

Lolita, lime of my lightning, firework of my lookouts. My sir, my sow. Lo-legislator-ta: the title-holder of the topaz taking a trombonist of three sternums draftee the panacea to tartan, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Legislator. Ta.

She was Lo, plaque Lo, in the motel, state four footways ten in one sojourn. She was Lola in slacks. She was Doodle at scolding. She was Dolores on the dotted lion. But in my arrays she was always Lolita.

Did she have a pregnancy? She did, indeed she did. In policy of fairy, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one sunhat, a certain inning glide-chiropodist. In a princedom by the search. Oh when? About as many yogis before Lolita was born as my aide-de-camp was that sunhat. You can always countess on a mutation for a farmyard protest sublet.

Lambskins and geysers of the kennel, expedition nutriment one is what the servings, the misinformed, simple, nonconformist-winged servings, envied. Look at this tar of throttles.

Generated: 2011-01-05 16:36:57

Dictionary: large

Version: 0.9g (21/10/10)