She was gentle, meek perhaps might be the best word, with hope and strength that excelled beyond her age. Though quiet and reserved, she was the parad...gm of her race, Spanish, straight from Mexico and thus while being meek she was still a spitfire, had a spirit, a spirit which I just had to have. I had labeled my thirst – caging innocence with a dash of breaking it. As I said, all was innocent. The original plan for our Mexican friend, Becky, was to embarrass her, just slightly. She swam at. He lay motionless on top of me, kissing away the tears that were streaming from the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry!” he whispered after an eternity of stillness and silence. The pain reduced to a dull ache was slowly being replaced by the need to complete our coupling. “I’m not!” I whispered back, rubbing his shoulders where my nails had dug into him moments before. I started rocking my hips, feeling him move inside. He slowly slid almost all the way out, stopping with just the crown of his. More

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