Several moments went by as their eyes were locked before she spoke."Look at my breasts..." She slowly undid the buttons of her satin blouse, the green...material slipping open further and further to reveal her large breasts held in the sheer black lace cups of her bustier which did little to hide her nipples and their hardness. The black satin bustier hugged her body tightly. Sliding the shoulder straps of the bustier off her shoulders gave her enough play in the material to slowly work the lace. Knowing what was taking place, the watcher shed a tear, rushed back to her hidden car and drove home.How could he do that? What could he possibly see in that short tramp? She had heard stories about Pat. She wasn't a fit mate for a man like Mike. The woman examined herself in the mirror. She was tall and slender, fit and trim. She took care of herself. Mike had to have noticed. He had smiled at her several times and complimented her. She knew he secretly wanted her as much as she wanted him. It. She felt like being squeezed inside a coffin and buried alive. Soon, she screamed for help, begged for mercy and drummed her fatiguing fists against the trap door above her until her knuckles started to bleed. After that she had cried in absolute misery until she had dozed off into a mix of sleep and unconsciousness. When she woke up for the first time it had been to a soft metallic knocking somewhere to her right. First she thought it was the fading echo of a nightmare were she kept beating. There is much between these two; they are only moments away from making love on the dance floor, until she is grabbed by the arm from her immature boyfriend.“Who the fuck is this asshole you’re dancing with?!” Her boyfriend asked.She yells in pain, “Ow! Let me go, you’re hurting me!”“Bitch, get upstairs!” To the handsome man, “She’s mine! She belongs to me! You stay the fuck away from her!”The handsome man doesn’t react; he remains calm and says, “I don’t see your name written all over her.Her.
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