‘Edie?’ he repeated and grabbed my wrist. ‘Don’t fucken touch me, Spencer!’ I cried. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me and I was acting like a cr...zy person but he touched me too intimately. It had brought back the memories of that night when I was eighteen. The night my boyfriend forced me. The night he raped me. ‘Please, Spencer, just let me go,’ I pleaded, crying as I tried to pull away so I could get my clothes to get dressed and run. ‘Edie? What’s wrong?’ he asked as he released my arm and got. I probably came out of my T-shirt at this point. I’d been having erections for quite some time, and as we raised cattle and hogs knew the basics of the birds and the bees, but had no idea what to do with this thing that kept popping up between my legs other than rub on it once in a while and note that it felt better when I did that. At this point, I hadn’t had a wet dream (and still haven’t) or an orgasm. She eventually mumbled something about a back rub (or I imagined this, it was 40 some. More

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