Or well, I had a tight virgin pussy .... and that is where my story begins. I locked the bathroom door and sat down in the shower. I had to get away f...om the drunken fight I was having with my boyfriend. I had moved in with him a month ago, against the warnings from my family. They told me that he was no good and was only going to cause me trouble. I did not believe them, like most young girls in love, so I moved in with him. For the first three weeks or so were wonderful. We spent time. Her nipples were suddenly dipped in hot wax and her breathing deepened, her already exhausted body pulling in deep breaths as it tried to deal with the sensations. Her heaving chest threw off little droplets of sweat, and some part of her noted purple at the edge of her vision with alarm. That part was lost to the haze of building pleasure as the feeling of hot wax altered to an impossibly cold pair of lips on each nipple. She cried out through the gag, weakly thrashing as she neared the edge.. Jenny didn't care & when Gaz & I had turned up, we were told Jenn was in the Balloon café, looking for us. She'd known us months from her party the year before. Turned up & Jen's there saying "There you are, my friend Lianne wanted to meet you". She was cute, with big rosy lips & one of those faces that seemed to have a cheerful smile all the time, blonde-but-mousy brown hair that was neck length, dressed in a Goth-style long velvet dress, loads of bangles, a small crucifix & star around her. Tall, beautiful and aloof. That was Florence Joseph in a nutshell. And the young Haitian-American wanted that rare fish for himself. One day, he gathered his courage and approached her. She was sitting on a bench in the park near the town’s church, reading a Harlequin novel. He approached her with a smile and a wave. She looked him up and down. Her eyes narrowed. Politely but with chilly overtones, Florence asked him who he was. Sebastien blanched. Did she really ask him that? Everybody in town.