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Thrusting a second finger inside me, he begins to move faster. I think he senses I’m close, curling them to hit my sweet spot, I buck up at him. I move with him as he fucks me with his mouth and fingers. He is taking total control over my body, I feel myself giving into him further. It’s then I feel the power of what I’ve been searching for so long. My body tightens, feeling myself falling from the merry-go-round, I let go and release. I begin to come so hard, dizzying sensation pulls me further into it. My legs buckle, locking in place, feeling myself come hard for him. He doesn’t lose his pace; he brings me into such a high. I gasp, trying to breathe even in the middle of my orgasm. How can he make me come so hard? We’ve not even had sex yet. Once I’m able to speak, he slows down, licking and tasting me. Pulling himself up to me, he kisses my lips gently. My breathing is still coming to a steady rhythm when he does, making me moan softly against his sweet lips. “How do you. Laugh with her. Touch her skin; just her hand would be the entire world to me. If I could just smell her, maybe my pain would go away.Everything changed so fast. I was having sex with her little sister. Fuck me! Why!? I wanted Camryn. Sex destroyed everything. Now we always fought; a constant tug of war. I was on the floor, so much pain. I lost. I was alone. I didn’t want to die.I could feel my body weakening every hour. Why did I have to stay awake? Why couldn’t I sleep through the pain, like before? I was pathetic. Weak. I reeked of dried piss.I was dehydrated. It hurt so bad to move. I wanted to be saved. I didn’t care anymore who did it. I just wanted food, water, comfort.My window. If I broke it, someone might check on me. I looked around. Clothes, a few paperback books, my alarm clock.With all the strength I could gather, I reached up and pulled my alarm clock to the floor with me. Some papers and my old pocket knife fell too. I ripped the plug from.
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‘Look at him! What are you doing, lying in the dust?’ I glanced down, groaning. Overnight, the wind had come up and I was covered in an inch or two of white. Playa dust from the Black Rock desert not only covered me, but also my sleeping bag, my cot, and everything else in the fancy big tent I had bought for this trip. The dust was itchy and awful. I sat up with great difficulty. ‘Water?’ ‘Elena, is he too stupid for us? Who puts up a tent and leaves it without the fly in a dust storm?’ Elena handed me her water bottle with a sympathetic nod. ‘He has troubles, like he said last night. Woman trouble.’ The other voice, which I dimly remembered belonged to Katerina, said, ‘Come with us. You need shower first before we talk.’ I stumbled after them, clad only in my shorts, asking, ‘What was in that punch? I am dying.’ ‘Is special homemade vodka from our uncle Ivan’s still. Very potent. We told you to sip, but you gulped. Is very popular. He has many customers from Park Slope. We brought.

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