She slapped my cheek with her right hand hard then she beat her fists against my chest repeatedly, all the time mouthing obscenities. ‘You facking, ...acking nasty bastard! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!’ ‘Calm down, dear, you’re not at work now!’ This was a sarcastic reference to her having successfully recently completed an Anger Management module as part of her training. I had grabbed her wrists at this point but it didn’t prevent her from attempting to kick then knee me in the nuts. Then she tried. This was foreplay for us and we were not in any hurry to get our things together and my crotch was saturated just standing.As a treat for both him and the chaps at the Horse and Groom pub, I had worn a slinky grey satin blouse with tiny white polka dots I bought at John Lewis in Guildford. It was partly transparent and exposed all of my underwear ... well, my black brassiere only of course. He made me stand with the blouse removed, smoothing his delicate, learned hands over my hips clad in a. More

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