He’s fondling me without shame, his fingers moving inside my v****a, their intention to excite me. And I can’t stop the sensations from mounting.
“You’re a passionate woman, Camille. Don’t deny it, or you do your soul a grave disservice.”
“But, I’m no longer pure for a husband!” I cry even as I realize that my body is ready to explode again.
“You don’t need a husband,” he says.
“You can’t make that choice for me.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Then let me go.”
“No.” He states flatly, as his hand retreats from my cunt and I’m almost sick with grief. “The only thing I am making sure of is that you don’t run from yourself. If I let you go now, you’ll turn your back on your passion and end up a bored housewife in some tacky hovel, pining for me and this jungle for the rest of your life. I can’t do th
