I spread my legs willingly. His hands started to move up; after reaching my knees, they moved under my skirt and cupped my ass.“You want to be fucke... don’t you, bitch?” he asked, pushing his thumb into my well lubed hole. “Yes,” I whispered. “I know you do, slut, your ass is already lubed for me,” he taunted.He pushed his middle nger deep into my hole while the other hand pulled apart my cheeks.“You like that, don’t you cunt?” “Yes,” I whispered again.He pushed me against the wall and one hand. We got to the pub about the same time and he came to me in the parking lot. All smiles, he looked about six-foot, a little on the husky side, and was balding with some salt and pepper hair. He wore a black coat and jeans.Taking my arm, he said, “So glad you actually came,” and we walked into the bar.We started with familiar small talk, chatting about his work, and then he said he was divorced and his kids were older. But, as the drinks kicked in, he told me he that he used to swing with his. More

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