She felt her hot fluid coat her finger. Now she could slide her finger in and out more easily. Slowly, in a thrusting movement, she moved her finger i...n and out. In a rhythm that purely satisfied her, she went with it, each time feeling more lubrication flow. She felt it running out of her aroused pussy and down the crack of her ass to the towel underneath her. Her other hand was still massaging her clit as she finger fucked herself to yet another wet frenzy.Her clit began to get rigid and poke. And the look that young girl had as she jerked off the farmhand was forever emblazoned on my mind. On this particular June day I was hitching a ride back from a neighbor kid’s graduation at Bowdoin College in Maine. I had ridden up with his parents and the plan was for me to take a bus back home the next day. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and I was only then hitting the road, which was a recipe for getting stuck someplace at night but I had no money for a motel room and all the dorms and. But she knew that even on his deathbed he would still pretend that nothing had ever happened. Oh my God, how she feared him! She was still afraid of the dark because of him. She was still afraid of men because of him. She hated herself because of him.Angela looked herself in the mirror. The woman looking back at her was a stranger. A tired stranger with coffee-colored eyes that were almost black, a nice complexion, a small but full mouth and red hair that were like a halo around her head. Then. ’ She looked up at him, looked into his eyes, and he thought she was going to try and kiss him. ‘Miss Wassermann, you know, under any other circumstances…’ ‘So? When you get off work, could you come over?’ ‘You know how many rules I’d be breaking if…’ ‘I’m not gonna tell anyone.’ ‘Tell you what. I’ve missed my lunch break, so how about I come over around nine or so, and I’ll take you to breakfast.’ ‘Sure, that’d be nice.’ She wiped her tears away on her robe. ‘I mean, I didn’t mean…anyway, I’m.