He caught my breast with his hand and squeezed it for one more time and looked at me and smiled. I couldn’t look at him I was shy I turned away and ... was trying to get off the bed. He moved down to my pussy and felt me near that area. I giggled and I left the room. I got dressed and I was preparing breakfast and coffee. He came into the kitchen slowly and hugged be from behind. I froze and stood still. His hands started playing with my breasts again. He was enjoying them very much. He began. What was the point, really? Why tell my story to a therapist? To a cell mate? Anybody?Nobody would believe me, and it would just look like I was pussy, anyway. Which is what I was. She made sure she reminded me of that numerous times. It's because it was the truth.The woman used me, mind-fucked me and actual-fucked me, and then to jam the knife in deeper, she stole my fucking girl?!?If it walks like a pussy and smells like a pussy...The numbness made it easy to go through the motions with the. More

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