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I felt her going limp after her orgasm and I lifted her into my arms before she hit the floor. I looked at the clock, worried that I had ran out of time until I counted that I had 10 minutes left. She was panting, regaining her composure when I laid her on the bed and immediately removed her last barrier. She was still dazed when I laid her on her back, got between her spread legs and crossed her arms above her head, holding them there with my left hand. She started to moan again when I grabbed my precum-coated cock and placed it at the entrance of her soaking pussy. ‘Be home before midnight,’ said mother. ‘Can I stay out later, please?’ she asked. ‘All the other kids get to stay out as long as they want!’ “You cant!” she yelled. “I never said it!” “Tell me,” I said. I got the smirk from her again. “Tell me to fuck you,” I repeated. ‘Only 5 minutes left,’ she replied with a smirk. This bitch was playing me. And I had never been fucking played. I got a sense of fear that I was. So Babs knew roughly what to expect when she herself was asked to go for walks after Sunday school by a boy who lived down the next street. No other young man she liked better came into her life so, when Bernard proposed to her, she dutifully accepted him. Alison was the matron of honour and her two nieces were the bridesmaids. They went to the church in a large white car. Bernard’s brother was the best man, wearing a white carnation, her father gave her away, her mother wore a white hat with a spray of flowers pinned on, and cried a lot during the service. Confetti was thrown, photographs were taken in the churchyard, before they all went to the Coop café for a sherry reception and a hot meal for the wedding breakfast. It was all very ordinary. Babs smiled dutifully, looking radiant, and her father, who had drunk far too much sherry on top of the large whiskeys before he left home, topped up with others from a hip flask, made a silly speech. Everybody laughed except Babs. She.
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