She sat up and pushed the covers down to see the puddle in her lap. First she thought she had wet herself, but there was no scent of urine. Her finger... confirmed: Her vagina, not her bladder, had produced the puddle. The last night’s cruel jokes about her scent on little brother’s shirt echoed in her dulled brain before being replaced by the memory of what caused the wetness. She marveled, and unconsciously reached under the shirt to touch herself, making sure her maidenhead was still intact.. She slashed upwards and I leaned back. She tried to side slash me, I leaned over. She tried to sweep my feet from under me, I backflipped away. "Oh, COME ON! I thought this was a fight!! People hit each other in a fight!!" I frowned at her. "I haven't hit you yet for the simple fact that I enjoyed watching you run around and get nowhere." I replied with a smile. "But you are right, If I let my guard down I could die, so If it will make you happy, I will hit you kay?" I remembered the words that. More

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