Moments later my skirt had been lifted around my waist and his cock was pushing against my pussy lips from behind. It was fast; it was furious and it ...as violent. He gripped my long dark hair and pulled; he slapped my thigh hard and he called me names; wonderful filthy names. He didn’t need to call me a fuck whore; he didn’t to tell something that I didn’t know already. I was a fuck whore and his fuck whore. Mark: It hurt seeing that passion; it hurt watching them kiss; it hurt watching his. ‘What do you think I came here for?’ I ask, following her. ‘Oh so what, your dick just got in the way of your sleuthing?’ I don’t even know how to respond to that. I sit down on the ottoman in front of her. ‘It happens.’ She doesn’t look at me as she drinks, clearly fed up. I sigh. ‘Look he’s an accountant.’ She looks at me. ‘An accountant?’ ‘He had missed his subway and was on his way to find another when the gun went off…said he saw a short woman with dark hair before he ran off scared.’ I. More

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