Personal Narrative: The Stress Of Brutal Fashion

Decent Essays
His hands gripped my breasts in a somewhat brutal fashion; although, brutal was just I what I needed. For weeks, the stress of my own life kept me trapped in my head. I felt like my life was spinning out of control and nothing seemed to restore my control or my piece of mind. He sensed something amiss when I walked in, even though I vehemently denied it. He knew me to well.

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