Three buttons on the shirt were undone to show his broad, hairy, manly chest. On his feet were a pair of heeled, pointy-toed cowboy boots that added a...couple of inches to his already six-one stature.“Don’t you fucking scream at me, cunt!” He’d yelled in my face, actually spitting on me as he shouted back. “Get on your fucking knees with your hands interlaced behind your neck and present those dried up cow teats for inspection.”That was how I’d met David. A totally different man. A huge, fucking. I was taught by my mother and elders not to look at men and stay away from them. So I was following that way and religious Islamic law. In my teenage. I had feelings to speak and look at men and started to like men. I had interest to listen stories from other women while talking about men. By that time I even understood as what happens when it's wedding night from my aunts and cousins. I was getting more interested. As the rules of my family I was not allowed to look or speak at men. But. More

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