Abigail let him know of the times she had been fucked by many men at once until cum was dripping out of every orifice. How she was used and abused then discarded like a Christmas puppy. She told of how some guys liked to beat up on her or how they shit and pissed over her nakedness while her pimp looked on and applauded the bestial use of his girl. Abigail told him that after a while, she didn't care what they did to her, that pain hardly registered and her holes were only entries into her body that fed her need for more drugs. She told him of a pregnancy that was beaten out of her by the pimp. She told him all of it; the worst times and that all she had to look forward to, was death from an overdose. Killing herself would have been easy, but the craving for heroine kept her alive for the next hit.During her sad tale, Paul had stroked and caressed Abigail, soothing and supporting her as it unfolded. He paused as she concluded, his hands ceasing movement. She took it as rejection,. I ditched my bag immediately upon walking through the door and slowly pulled off my tee, not stopping a bit as I raced to the bathroom. By the time I reached for the knob to turn on the water, I was down to just my bra and panties. The rest of my clothes made a perfect trail to where I stood in front of my shower. I glanced in the mirror thinking back to the library. My eyes became wider as I tilted my head to the left and I could see the image of him behind me leaning in to kiss my neck. His breath was sweet on my ear and I felt the beat of his heart on my back. His hands slowly wrapped around to my breast. He worked my nipples, gently pulling them through the grey lace. What the hell?! I snapped out of it and turned around. The water was steaming up the room. I slowly tugged my bra off and let it fall to the ground. I ran my fingers over my hips and hiked my panties down just to see the wetness staining the light grey lace. Great he was really getting to me. Maybe ice cold water.
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