Pain claws at my insides. A foreign kind of pain.
It's more like an invasion of pressure. Everywhere. It plagues my loins, my tummy, the walls of my s*x. There's a definite stretching there, my flesh hurrying to accommodate Ramsy's larger than normal shaft. And of course I know he's well above average. I work in a factory with women twice my age and all they talk about is men and s*x. They laugh and tell me to cover my ears, no idea that the act of intercourse, the wild tangle of two people mating, has always made my panties damp in my factory suit. Their stories replay in my head at night before I fall asleep, wedged in between prayers for forgiveness.
I can't help it.
I can't contain my wicked nature at all times. It's taxing.
For a few moments, I accept this as my punishment. The pa
