It wasn’t possible to tell via text if the last part was meant to be a warning or an expression of excitement. His stomach was already sending him b...th signals. He’d grown up in Israel knowing every day brought a possibility of real, potentially-lethal violence, but generally managed to avoid anything worse than the equivalent of playground fisticuffs. Even in Brownfield Mills, he’d used his size and presence to imply the possibility of violence far more often than he’d actually laid hands on. I clenched my fists, trying to hold in the rush of intensity overtaking me. I took in a deep breath and held it, trying my hardest not to make a sound.Then it hit me like a school bus. My thighs began to quiver, and my arms shook with tension. My fists were so tight I thought I might draw blood from my own fingernails. I felt the walls of my vagina clench and convulse around Jasmine’s fingers, and as she felt it she slid her fingers in and out of me while applying a steady rub with her palm on. More

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