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If she noticed what I was doing, she sure showed no interest. When I was able to touch her bra, I started squeezing her breaststhrough the bra. She the started moaning and soon so did I. I stretched my legs to the floor and since they were asleep, I fell right down without her. She snickered a little and finished what I had started. She took off her shirt for me to look at her green camo bra. She then took off her jeans, that went only to her ankles, very slowly as to torture me. When they were off, they revealed a pair ofmatching panties to her bra.Right then like her acrobatics before, took both bra and panties off in one smooth move. I was still speechless. She was shaven but looked to be dripping and her nipples were like pink eraser tops and were already erect.She then came back over and sat her wet pussy on top of my penis. "You have one big cock for your age and WOW is it thick," telling me as she moved up and down on my member.All I could say was a soft thank you as my body. Instinctively, she twisted, back towards the boy, his grip loosened, the heel of her hand connected with his jaw. Surprise filled the boys eyes, then tears, the pain was excoriating, her foot connected with his knee, she heard a snap, then a scream. The boy was on the ground holding his knee, his football days were over. She turned and started back towards the road, several of the other boys had heard and seen what had happened. Three ran up and blocked Adrienne’s exit, she turned to go back a different way, three more boys blocked her way. The first boy to make the mistake of trying to touch her, received a broken arm at the elbow for his trouble, the next a broken nose, the next boy got a cheap shot in that bloodied her lip. This cost him a broken arm and a broken leg, the largest of the boys grabbed her and flung her to the ground, he fell on top of her, ripped her blouse open and managed to free one of her breasts from her bra. This cost him his life, the same heel of her hand.
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‘How long does this go on?’ I said to Tolerante. ‘Hasta la muerte,’ he replied. ‘To the death.’ ‘And where is the Cuban?’ ‘I do not know, senorita.’ He must have noticed the heaviness of my breathing, the glazed look in my eye, the faint line of perspiration that had begun to form on my upper lip. I may even have taken the initiative myself — I no longer remember. What I do remember is the sensation that charged through me as I felt his delicate, slender fingers at the back of my neck, massaging the muscles gently, with an astonishingly knowing touch. Under other circumstances I undoubtedly would have reacted, would have removed his hand with a gentle smile, perhaps, or even have scolded him. But no such thought crossed my mind at that moment. The delightful, insistent massage was exactly what I needed, and almost immediately I found myself backing up so that the rounded crests of my buttocks brushed lightly against his groin. ‘Si, senorita,’ he murmured, and I could feel his breath.

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