They suspected Marc made the pasta sauce when he was horny. As he stirred the sauce with his big wooden spoon, he imagined himself stirring the juice... in their pussies. Sometimes he would get hard just thinking about them. They smiled at each other when they got home from work and smelled the aroma. One, or both of them, was in for a good fucking tonight. They immediately took off their work clothes and changed into their tightest t-shirts and thinnest yoga pants so they could let Marc know. "And what's with this Veronica Lake peek-a-boo bullshit? Let me see your face." I was petrified with fear and as a last resort, turned to face the wall and put both of hands up to cover even the back of my head as I twisted around in the booth. It was not enough. He wrenched me around with drunken force, if not coordination. The front upper part of my dress ripped and momentarily the three of us were looking at the lace bodice of my slip. It was a defining moment to say the least. Then. More

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