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St. Monica's School For Girls

************ Disclaimer!!! Before you start reading this book.... THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXTREMELY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT OF THE MOST GRAPHIC NATURE. I'm a degenerate, so this book was made for degenerates. If you fancy content that know no sexual bounds, sex between two females, then read at your own discretion. The book is pretty much depraved, with a dark tone, some might find it offensive even. If you are underage or unwilling to experience depictions of Yuri, hardcore sex, fetish behaviours, and unrestrained carnal perversions in lurid detail - DO NOT READ THIS BOOK. You have been warned - continuing past this point confirms you are an adult clearly consenting to subjecting yourself to material that does not shy away from portraying sexuality and deviance in its most profane, boundary-pushing extremes. If you nevertheless choose to proceed and find yourself offended or disturbed, DO NOT BLAME THE AUTHOR. This is your final advisory.  18+ ONLY. Moving on... No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any more or by any mass electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the author. Please, Take Note: This is a book of fiction. All characters, names, places, incidents and behavior are from the author's imagination, used with no intentions of hurting anyone; Any resemblance to any actual living thing or dead is mainly by coincidence and I sincerely apologise. Read on!!

Golden_Essence · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
117 Chs

Road Rage

I gave him Donna's number, which he called from his own phone. That was part of the plan, of course, so they would have each other's numbers. Then he asked why I, a 14-year-old girl too young to drive, was out by myself driving a car in this part of the city.

The question hung in the air as I felt Jenny's eyes raking over me. Her gaze lingered on my outfit, taking in every detail. I could almost hear her thoughts as she cataloged each item: designer jeans clinging to my curves, a sheer blouse that left little to the imagination, and heels that added just enough height for my arms to drape comfortably around Eric's neck. My face felt heavy with makeup, and the excessive jewelry clinked softly as I shifted. It was more of an evening look, completely out of place for a Saturday morning picnic.