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Lincoln Davis was the night manager here, the one that closes up the gym. I began to cry again. How could he be involved in this? He always seemed so ...ice! The guy who had a hole of me moved one hand from my breasts and used it to spread my legs. He reached up under me and started feeling my pussy. He ran his first finger up and down my slit. Then he used two fingers and opened my pussy lips and found my clit. He started rubbing it while still playing with my breasts. I didnt want it to feel. Those lips were so inviting. His eyes would flick from her eyes to her lips, dying to just lean into her, to softly place his lips on hers, taste them, feel the flesh of them as their lips separated...If only she knew the thoughts in his head. While he was prattling on about the Rosedale area of Toronto where Atwood lived and the realistic psychology of protagonists, the whole time pictures of him making love to her, fucking her, were racing through his head. This evening he had seen her. More

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