He was still pulling and the zip caught my flesh as it moved down my body, and I cried out again in pain. His dirty fingers slipped in between my leg... as soon as the skirt was around my feet with my heels. He rubbed mindlessly at my clit before plunging a finger deep inside me. My juices ran down the side of my legs as he rammed his fingers deeper and deeper inside me, adding another finger and then another. He wasn’t try to give me pleasure, but I felt it anyway as his long, rough fingers. Dom’s wasn’t just a simple thought process so much as a constant full blast high speed bombardment of monologue such that it was often hard for even him to keep up with it. Touching himself like he did seemed to be comforting to the extent that it slowed down the bombardment to a rate that was far more easily dealt with. But how does a c.hild come close to understanding that himself, let alone explaining it to the adults who were wanting him to stop? He was aware of sex. He thought he knew the. More

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