The hood was removed. The lights blinded her. She could barely see the table. The interrogator was a mere haloed outline.Amy desperately tried to make...out his features. Her attention was drawn to the table. The numbered plastic basket was there. To her astonishment, she recognized her purse on the table. She must have involuntarily gasped because the cane struck the small of her back with a swishing sound that Amy had learned to dread.“Do you recognize this?,” the interrogator’s voice echoed. She moves against my finger, wanting it in as deep as it can go, my knuckles grazing her clit. She gasps and I finger fuck her as she wanks my cock, doing this for a few minutes, kisses more urgent, more desperate, until she whispers "fuck me" in my ear.The wide, steep stairwell of the bus invites us, so reluctantly I withdraw my wet finger, and lick it in front of her, relishing the taste of her, the smell and the knowledge that we are going to fuck each other. I sit her at the top of the. More

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