I was 18 Yr old and my testosterone was asking for a female to have sex with. Things got even worse when my father gave me job of caretaker and superv...sor of his mosque since I wasn’t able to beat my meat for the entire day. At least the heavy work at the mosque paid as my body started to acquire a shape that of a body builder. The frustration started to appear even in my daily life. I was rude to every one in the family. One day after finishing my morning chores at the mosque when I got home I. Obviously he'd done a lot better with his life than Leroy, George's coworker, ever had.George nodded to the scrawny man. He was dressed like his profession would suggest: dark rimmed glasses, polo shirt tucked into name-brand khakis, dress shoes. George stood and approached him, his large frame towering above the much smaller man."So it's all ready?" he asked gruffly."I need to install something on your computer, but yeah, the hard part's done. Want to see?" he grinned. There was something. He lazily stroked her breast, and she gasped into his mouth. He circled her nipple with his finger. Through the fabric of her shirt he felt her nipple pebble against him palm. He took it between his fingers and gently squeezed. She moaned as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. She was lost, she knew nothing beyond the coiling tension that claimed her lower belly and breast. Khadeem slowly started unbuttoning the nightshirt that he had given her. As the fabric parted his fingers sought her. He screamed out almost crying, shouting at me, calling a stupid fucking bitch and that I had broke his phone, he picked it up, I was still trying to tie up my bathrobe when he threw the phone down on the sofa and attacked me again, we wrestled with my bathrobe opening again, we swung round and lost our balance as we bumped into the sofa, rolling off the sofa onto the floor, I was on my back as he climbed on top of me, sitting on my stomach with my bathrobe underneath my body, his knees were.