I walked out of the gym and into the Hall, I turned a corner and walked upstairs. I stopped in front of an all to familiar spot and sat down. "Locker ...61!" I said looking up. "You've been repainted." I ran my fingers across the paint and could feel the slight indentation underneath. "Ryan Porter-house!" scratched into the paint underneath. "Ryan Porter still in the same spot, I see?" Another all to familiar voice called out. "Mrs. Mallory, I know that voice anywhere." I said looking up. "How. She marvels at her own figure in the mirror. The dress is bunched around her waist, her lace bra fully exposed. She knows how much we wants to see the way the lace hugs her hard nipples, how badly he wants to run his fingers, his tongue, around her nipples.She imagines him standing behind her, slipping his hands over her shoulders, inside her bra. The camera clicks again as her hands slip inside the bra. Her nipples throb with delight as she pinches them gently, rolling them as she knows he. More

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