After a fight that lasted only a few seconds, Bush said, he heard Rice say, “He bit my finger off,” and he saw a stump.

We’re in the bathroom and the door is closed. I want to fuck her while sitting on the toilet seat both of us facing the full-length mirror her mother dresses in front of each morning before going to work as a bank teller. She refuses because she says it’s dirty. Then she lies down on the slip rug beside the tub and pulls me to her by the front pocket of my button up. I rub her pussy over her vinyl pants and raise her white cotton v-neck patterned with yellow daisies, to kiss my favorite cluster of freckles under her left breast. While I’m fingering her she suddenly pushes me away. What the fuck’s the matter, I say. It’s nothing, forget it. I reach for her pussy and she closes her legs. Your fingers feel like bottle caps.