Her hair was a mousey brown, badly styled and touched her shoulders. I can't remember what she was wearing because she was so ugly, too ugly to fuck, ...ut maybe, just maybe, ugly enough to hurt.She'd talked too much about her job in the local library, her love of literature, tried to impress me, but to no avail – it was a charade and she knew that I knew it.I'd cut to the chase. "You're damaged. Tell me about it."Anyone else would have walked out on me, a relative stranger, if I'd said that to. It was a loving game that lasted thirty or more minutes, and when I sensed she was at the apex of sexual excitement, I penetrated her with two fingers and curled them up, exerting pressure on her wall as my tongue assaulted her clit.She would scream my name and her hips would go through repeated violent spasms that I often thought would never end.If it were a particularly good night, when the screaming was over and the spasms had subsided, she lay there motionless. At times it appeared as if. More

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