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Another palm quickly reached my cave of pleasure, and I was surprised to understand that it was already all wet.
The finger easily went inside; I groaned a bit.
The second – and I’m already somewhere not here.

– Gunay, get up, you’ll be late for school! “Despite the lust that took hold of me, the remnants of my mind suggested that my mother was right.
On shaky legs, I reached the bathroom and locked myself there.
The smell of fingers excited, but it was necessary to wash.
I opened the cold water to invigorate, rinsed my hands.
Then she got into the bathroom: I didn’t have a dry place all night, I had to wash.
But the touch of the cold finger to the hot flaps of my bosom made me flinch, barely holding back the still unaccustomed groan of pleasure – and I, crouching, continued my “morning exercises”.
However, I didn’t have to continue for a long time: I, practically without restraining my groans (the sound of water covered them), huddled in orgasm from the third touch of the clitoris.
So, on the day of my majority my father told me who he chose as my husband.
I was outraged by such a dismissive attitude to my opinion, and the decision of my father caused a strong, unfamiliar to me, feeling of hopelessness and the inability to influence the situation.
But – and this was the main discovery – that feeling excited me much more than my first love: I slept for 3-4 hours all week, and all the rest of the time, being in sexual tension, I imagined how my husband would use me – and caressed I was feeling myself, as I then thought, of indescribable bliss: an orgasm after an orgasm, then so unusual, covered me, making me tremble in ecstasy and cry from bliss.
Mind, however, at that moment had not yet come to terms with the body, and I posted messages on the Internet: “I get married forcibly, help me!”
(Porn tales) Most people didn’t believe that this was possible in Russia.

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Those who believed offered to escape.
Yeah, run away here with your father’s connections to the police and special services! One person advised to talk with his father.
I read this advice on the tram when I was traveling with my classmate Sveta to the mall to watch a movie, and suddenly remembered how about five years ago my father said: “A girl cannot choose her own destiny.
When Gunay is eighteen, she will marry.
By that time, I will know for whom, and let her know.
A woman can not subjugate a man.
On the contrary: she must obey him in everything.
For several days in a row I was in sexual tension: nipples were constantly bristling, pussy was flowing all the time.
And here.
I, trying to sit up straighter, just moved my ass closer to the back of the tram chair.
The panty fabric only rubbed slightly, as always lately, tight lower lips; I, as if burnt by an electric discharge, exhaled: “A-ah!”.
A friend looked at me: – Gunay, are you all right? “Yes, everything is in order,” I replied, taking myself in hand and closing the page with my question on the Internet.
The fact is that many at school envied my future marriage, and I hid that nobody asked me at all.
However, it was necessary to do something: I was very excited and was afraid that the lubricant, leaking through the panties, would create a stain on the jeans in the crotch.

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Everyone will think that I described.
Having ordered to eat at the cafe, Sveta remained sitting at the table so that it would not be occupied, and I ran to the toilet to “wash my hands.”
Having run into the booth and locked up, I quickly threw off my jeans and panties (the last ones pulled so that they broke), and, choking on her bra, which had bruised chest, I began to pull at the clitoris again.
The atmosphere excited: a stinky outhouse, people walk around, and I, with a bare booty sitting on the toilet, tugging at my knoll of passion, squeezing it with my fingers more and more.
And again, I barely kept a cry.
Going to go out, at the last moment I guessed to wipe off the grease from my hips with toilet paper.
Going out, I discovered that I accidentally ran into the male.
Well, that at the time of entry and exit, it was empty.
After eating with a friend, I offered to look at a lingerie store: my panties, as I said, were torn, and I needed to buy new ones.
Seeing a tattered rag on me, Sveta was amazed: – Gunay, why are you walking in rags? – I was in a hurry to walk, I could not find anything.
Sveta looked incredulous.
During the fitting, explaining why the bodice does not want to sit on my chest, as it should, she touched my nipple – and something was plugged inside.
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