Heather woke as from a nightmare, and then realized that the voice she heard was not coming from a dream. It was faint but distinct."No, no, please! A...ything but that! No, no, leave me alone!" said a high voice."Forget it, bitch. You're mine!" said the low voice, who could be no one but Paul.She was up at once, frantic, and pulled on her robe. The memories flooded her of her own rape: the knife, the sneer of the man as he'd violently penetrated her body, his laugh as she cried in pain, his. It was obvious that she was a repressed middle aged lesbian who lusted for younger, attractive women half her age, yet never got to satisfy her need. Now it was actually happening for her as she rubbed up against the 22 year old.As the music went on, the woman got more and more bold, touching and feeling her dance partner's body. First her hands were on her hips, then on her flexing stomach, than just below her breasts. By now Jill's tits were practically falling out of her tight tube top, and. More

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