The class went on, and, at one point, I felt her looking at me. I turned-and, yes, she indeed was looking at me. With a shit-eating grin on her face.S...e wasn't mooning. I'd seen mooning. There are times when Jared looks at Amanda, or vice-versa, and it looks like someone worshipping at the Madonna of Lourdes, or something. You know, that's them two-that's how they are. But, since I was still working out how I felt about Missy, if she had looked at me like that, I'm pretty sure I would've been. Mistress dragged him back until the cum which had oozed out of his ass hole was in front of his mouth and almost instinctively he knew what he was supposed to do. He started licking the cum out of floor. There was no more hesitation left in him. He was way past that. As he was lapping up the cum from floor, Mistress walked towards his back and said “ Slut all this fucking has turned your tight cunt into an impressive gaping hole, that is what suits a whore like you” as she started caressing his. A waiter came by and filled her glass again. Under the table she felt a hand stroking her leg. Something was wrong, but what? She closed her eyes and tried to think. There was someone she needed to see; someone she needed to talk to. The hand was stroking her thigh. She shook her head to try and clear it and the room seemed to revolve, to turn in slow motion. She tried to stand up and fell against someone. She felt her jacket being placed on her shoulders.She felt herself being moved through. I swear I wanted to say no. I wanted to say hell no. She hurt me. She humiliated me. She mocked my faith, my way of my life, my very being. She hurt me at a very vulnerable moment. Yet I didn’t say anything of the kind. I took her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her. Hey, I’m a man…and all men are weak. And that’s how it began again. Patricia Jenkins and I gave it another shot. What a pair we make. I am the openly bisexual son of an Arab-American businessman and a Jamaican-American.