But all of the reasons and joys of having sex weremeaningless now without love. I talked to my therapist for hours over the next month and she wasact...ally pleased with my change of attitude and the respect I was nowcraving in a relationship. I was still working five nights a week as anescort until college started up again, but I was no longer that eager tobe with a different man each time. It was better with my regulars, butstill I needed something more. My therapist thought I had. Three dayslater he broke up with me.The weeks that followed were nearly as horrifying as things had been whenmy father was still alive and kicking (sometimes literally). The biggestdifference was that this time it was all psychological abuse. The rumorsstarted almost immediately about how I was a slut who would have sex withanyone. My so called friends dropped me faster than you could say go.Guys started groping me in the hallway when I walked by, while girlssneered at me and called me names. After a final flurry of rhythmic bed creaking and some loud groaning, all fell silent and I feel asleep, eReader on my stomach.I don’t know what had woken me. It was just becoming light when I saw my door handle turn and Claire looked into the room. Seeing my eyes were open she came in. She was wearing a blue, two-piece, business suit.“Morning big boy,” she said in a hushed tone and with a beaming smile.“Morning,” I responded in the same conspiratorial tone.She sat in the bed next to me, her. She wrapped her arms around me and said, “this is so wrong, but feels so right! I’ve never ever cum so much, so hard and I’ve never actually had my body do what it did just now.” As we laid there I shifted a bit so I could play with her nipples which had been on my mind since she first showed up. They had softened since we’d both cum and I’d shot my load up her ass, but as I began to rub my hands over them on the outside of her cum stained blouse, they quickly filled with blood and became.