Filed under: Deviant Dreams
the email from V continues:
I grab a chunk of your hair and force your head down.
“Look at it, slut,” I purr, “goddamn little whore. Look down at your cunt. Lift your skirt up. Jesus. Even I can see how wet your panties are. Is that why so many guys keep coming around? To get a whiff of your cunt? Huh? Now slip those panties aside…show me how thick those lips are…how wet…how shiny. You wanna touch it, don’t you, Grace. You wanna shove three fingers inside your whore-hole and fuck yourself silly. Well. You can’t. Your just gonna have to put up with it for the whole 9 hours. Even when you go outside for lunch. That’s gonna be the hardest. Trying to keep your normally cool gait, the one that makes all the girls in the office dream of punching you in the face because you look so damn good. Kind hard while I’m fucking your ass with every step, huh, baby? Walking a little differently? Everybody notices, but they can’t quite figure it out. Nobody thought of the obvious answer – your asshole is stuffed.”
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