I heard she had kicked men's asses all over at tournaments. I even knew she had beat the shit out of an attacker once as well. Put the poor, bastard, ...f a–would be rapist in the hospital and then jail. I'm also old-fashioned – a man can't hit a woman. Even if she is a mean dyke bitch.My eyes streamed with tears of pain – also I cried from the fear. Terror gripped me hard clutching my lungs, my heart and my stomach in a firm unrelenting hold. She didn't blink she bore her eyes into me burning. I took stock of their clothing as I lifted my eyes again. The brunette encased her legs in dark brown slacks of some exceptionally soft looking material that somehow still maintained a crisp crease. Above a dividing dark belt to match her hair, was a very loose blouse was a bold abstract of autumn colors up to her open neckline.I got a bit more of a glimpse of the blonde, who wore a pleated skirt short enough to just graze her knees. The rest of her was held up by smooth exposed legs tapering. “Take that dress off!” he commands. As requested I peel the dress up and off my body and hand it to my Dad. He drops it on the floor, and runs his hand over my now huge baby belly. Then he pinches a nipple. “These are starting to fill with milk too. Not long now Baby. As Bob thinks you look so good I think we should take some pictures for the family album.” Dad says as he heads into the sitting room. I hear him routing through cupboards. “That’s it. Come in here” he says. As I walk through the. Now my man made me take these pics for you and I am to tell you about each of them. First there is the trashy snow boots which I’ll wear while you and I hang out naked and drink wine and kiss each other laughing casual and pretty but KNOWING you are pretty and liking to show it off. We’d be very pretty together like that.Then there are the yellow whorey Italian shoes. These I wear for serious whore jobs in hotels. God you and I would make a real whore team. We’d get paid loads to put on a show.