Their tongues danced, a mating ritual, a foreshadow of what was to come. He started to work at the buttons of her blouse, and watched her face as he ...id so. He pushed the cotton garment from her shoulders and down her arms. It floated to the floor, puddled at her feet. She pulled his shirt from the waistband of his khakis he was wearing, and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Finally, she just tugged, and several of the buttons went flying, she apologized, and said she would sew them. *SMACK* DO YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY BITCH?!?! This snapped Hannah out of her reverie, what do you want, I-Im sorry!! she wailed. Her assaulter hesitated visibly, then got even angrier. I! DONT! NEED! TO! TELL! A! CUNT! LIKE! YOU! WHAT! I! WANT! FUCK! YOU! Each word was punctuated by a sharp slap, Lorraine wasnt even aiming by the end, migrating lower and lower with each slap. By the end of the sentence, Hannahs milky white skin was a painful, glowing red and her soft, tender pussy was wetter. More

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