I wanted to get up and run away. Find some quiet and forgotten corner of the world to hide in and to stay safe. But stay safe from what? A croaking no...se broke through my thoughts. Someone was snoring in my ear. My eyes edged open and I turned over onto my side. That was a mistake. Some sort of noxious effluent rolled and slopped in my stomach and a sickening nausea shot up into my mouth and nose. Waves of queasiness flowed through me. Next to me, snoring, was a giant potbellied rat. It’s face. When she was so close to coming and he was sure she was begging, he stood up, got dressed and left for work.Ten minutes later as she was coming down from her high, her phone played that all too familiar tune. Here the fun began. “Today you will wear nothing but your underwear,” the text message read. “Which ones - the red lace or the black silk?” “The black silk, they are easier to rip off when I get home.” The texts flew back and forth all day, getting flirty and defiantly more and more. She looked at me again and smiled slyly; as always, she knew exactly what I was thinking. In her best Oxbridge accent she said,“I get the distinct impression that you approve of my current apparel Mr. Mackay.”I smiled and nodded my head slowly; doing my best to look like a horny wide-eyed schoolboy. She smiled again demurely, then said quietly,“Good, but we can’t go anywhere with you looking like that.”Before I could answer she strutted to the door, opened it and brought in a multi level metal. I’m weaving my long black hair through my fingers and tugging at it. I’m fantasising about him doing the same much later.He arrives and we drink. He drinks more than me, I get incredibly silly with more than a couple of glasses of wine. He strokes my legs, his hand creeping up under my ever-so conservative preppy skirt. I want to kiss him and snuggle into his chest: he wants to fuck me. I’m embarrassed that the men at the bar can see this: a silly girl of a student being fondled by a much older.
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