This time there was no holding myself in place, no subtlety; we went at it with reckless abandon. It wasn’t making love, it was lust, pure, uncontro...led and without pretense. It was glorious, joyful fucking. Julia threw her head back and laughed with carnal pleasure as I plunged in to the root and gave myself to the impulse, hammering into her with brute force, pounding her punished backside into the leather with fast, full thrusts. Her legs straightened, pointing to the ceiling, pinning me. On the first Monday afternoon of tutoring, Zena arrived wearing her usual traditional garb. She was dressed in a long coat like garment, which reached to just below mid-calf over what looked like loose legged slacks. On her head she wore the traditional hijab, much like a nun’s wimple, that hid her hair and neck. From my reading, I remembered that the traditional dress was worn so women couldn’t flaunt their femininity and cause men to become aroused and want to take advantage of them – I have. More

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