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and his furious kisses on my barely tits, and the way his tongue would tickle the back of my throat, and how i felt so eaten whole. being raped that young was like being worshipped, like my flesh was holy nutritent, like he couldn't breathe without feeling me tear up underneath him. prayer in the consumption of prey, his cock half in and kissing my cervix, punishment and praise on his lips.
and me, all alone in the storm of his adult desire, lost and confused and shaking as the fear made me cum, and cum, and cum. without knowing the concept or the word.
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