It wasn't just the pain. It was where the pain was. She still had her urge. She still needed to come. Her cunt itched, it begged for release. She need...d it.She couldn't have it.She couldn't touch her cunt. It felt like fire was searing the sensitive bruised flesh each time she tried it.She even took to wearing those skirts instead of her short shorts. The rubbing and the pressure of the cloth in her crotch was too irritating.But all things pass, and flesh, in time, heals.And when it healed,. She didn't urge me to touch her much except to the extent it aroused me. She would have her own orgasm on those rare occasions when I really wanted her to, but mostly she was encouraging me to let loose and do whatever gave me the most pleasure, because she was feeling it too. I was in heaven.But after a while even I wanted to do some other things in life, wanted time to study, hang out with other friends. She accepted it, but with less grace I thought than I had in the old days when I wanted. More

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