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His other hand grabbed me by the hair and I knew I was in for a good old-fashioned Donaldson family face fucking. Oh Robbie, I'm getting so fucking hot watching you.
Over time, I learned that pain was the additive I required to blow the searing hot wind of sexual satisfaction through my brain.Donaldson and his wife, Lois, my aforementioned brother-in-law and his wife and Mary Ellen, my dead husband's younger sister now in her fourth year at West Point.They were watching me being abused as a prelude to entering Morrosco's Funeral Home in Melrose, Massachusetts for their son's wake. Donaldson had been traveling through the streets of Kabul when a mine had exploded under his Humvee.Trace used to say that his family considered arms their profession and pain their hobby.How did a nice girl like me from Lowell, Massachusetts get mixed up with this group of patriotic sadists? My predilection for reaching an orgasm only after a sound flogging had brought Trace Donaldson and I together. As a result, I had a five-year commitment to patch up soldiers in whatever piss poor backwater the Army selected.