“I want you to rub it all over your body. All over your tits, and all over your stomach.” “Okay! Hurry!” she begged. She had an itch deep inside her, and that long pole of his would feel so good in scratching it. “And…” he continued, “You can’t wash it off. You have to leave it and go back to the mall to your boyfriend with my cum all over you. Tomorrow you can tell me all about it.” He was still running that incredible penis of his up and down the lips of her vagina. “Ryan!” she said, shocked. “I can’t do that!” He rubbed his cock against her clitoris again, and she closed her eyes. “We don’t have much time.” He warned. He couldn’t get any harder! Charmaine struggled inwardly. That was so rude, that was past the line! Why would she do that to the man she loved? She looked at the clock. 2:19. She would be late if she took any longer. She looked at Ryan. He was so sexy, his strong, naked body hovered above her. His huge tool was rubbing against her needy entrance. “Okay.” She. I looked at the window, but I didn’t see anything but darkness. Every now and then we passed a lonely house, and the light shone softly among the fir trees, only to disappear just as quickly. I discretely turned my head to look at the young woman again. She was sitting very still and very quiet, as if she was a porcelain doll, but she was still crying. Big tears ran down her cheeks and down her neck. She swallowed, and the muscles moved under her skin. That was the only visible movement. I scratched my head to have a plausible excuse for why I had my head turned in such a way that I looked right at her – just in case she’d look up and catching spying on her. What could be the reason for her crying? A break-up? Loss of a family member? Or had she perhaps recently lost her job? She was still reasonably young. She should be out with friends or hurrying home to a young man, she shouldn’t be travelling all alone, crying. I turned away again. It really wasn’t my problem, she had made that.
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