And without fail, every night, our bodies would become one, . . . many times. Amazingly, she was the one woman who never satisfied me. No matter how m...any times we fucked, I wanted her, needed to have her, that much more. But now, she was afraid to see me. So, we talked on the phone. Our conversations throughout our relationship were almost as good as the sex. We’d talk for hours some times. Her voice, that giggle, the way she’d roll her eyes or smack my arm at some ridiculous comment I just. . post-orgasmic!Oh, shit, it had hit everyone at the same time -- now that was weird; Blake and I would definitely have a topic for a delicious discussion.My tampon was soaked, but there was a line of women at the bathroom door going down the entire hallway -- and one at the men's too.My cubicle is at least a little private, so I scooted in as far as I could under my desk, hiked my skirt up to my waist, dragged my panties to my ankles and pulled it out right there.I looked around; no one seemed. . even oral sex.As youthful offenders, the boys names could not be released through the press, but social networking and the jailhouse grapevine was more active and faster than mainstream media. They could look forward to much rough justice in the shower stalls at the Federal facilities they'd be in for the next three years. Their punishment would fit the crime and then some.It could not be proven that Riana took the photos although they were recorded on her cell phone. She claimed to have been. No hugs. No kisses. And the food was terrible. She spit it out. She'd show the bad peoples. She wouldn't eat. She'd show them.Then some good men took her away. She was so happy! She smiled and smiled. She thought they were taking her home. They wore clothes like the good men who took her away from the bad man from long ago and took her to Mama and Papa. But they were bad men, too. They didn't take her home. They put her fingers in ink and took her picture, and some other bad men took her to a.