He could hear and feel the bones in his hand and wristshattering followed shortly after by searing pain shooting up his arm. Hedoubled over, fighting...the agony, trying desperately to keep fromscreaming."Really, that's all you got? Jeez, Clit, no wonder you need to hit girls- you hit like you are one. You seriously just broke your hand hittingthis face? Damn, you're pathetic."Now he was really pissed. He must have misjudged his last hit and hadn'ttightened his fist enough. This time he. He had never been to my room before. All of this ran through my mind as I looked into his eyes, searching for I knew not what."This one will break the monotony of Montaigne," Mr. Oldham said, handing me a book. "Don't tell Suz I loaned it to you. Her appreciation of fine literature is limited," he said as he turned to leave."Thank you, Sir," I called after him.I looked at the cover of the book, Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck, and wondered what Suzanne could find objectionable about me. Angel yawned and sat up in Alans bed. She looked around, wondering where her boyfriend could have gone. Then she rolled out of bed and pulled on one of his t-shirts to cover her naked body. As she stepped out of the room and walked down the hallway, she heard a soft moan. She knew that it could only be Brianna. She looked through the crack in her friends door and gasped quietly. Alan was pounding into his little sisters pussy. She smirked. So thats why she didnt care about Alan and I, she said. Er war Rund, knackig, wie ein Po eben sein sollte.während ich in Gedanken versunken war, kribbelte es in mir und meine Hand ging vom Po über meinen flachen Bauch, bis unter mein weißes schlaf-Shirt und an meine Brüste. Manchmal brauchte ich diese Streicheleinheiten am Morgen einfach. Keine Selbstbefriedigung oder so, sondern einfach nur Berührungen auf der Haut, ein fühlen des eigenen Körpers. Ich streichelte mir über meine kleinen Brüste. Ein schönes Gefühl, wenn meine Finger um die.