She formed a picture of him in her mind. Broad furry chest, perfect for running fingers through. Large gentle hands. Tall, strong, and oh! Sparkling g...een eyes, full of laughter. A square jaw setting a warm smile, framed by a soft dark beard. I’d like to run my fingers through that, too. Michele wondered what it would be like, what he was like, what it meant to be his. I bet he could make me come. But then her thoughts turned to the ones who had made her who she was, the ones that had ruined. “He’s been staring at my boobs so hard I think his eyes are going to pop out.”I struggled to find something to say.“Oh, now he’s getting a little bolder. Got his hands on me now, giving my tits a little squeeze. Mmmm, he’s pinching my nipples, making them nice and stiff.”She let out a sigh.“Now he’s sliding a hand down my stomach. Under my bikini bottom and down between my legs. Ooooo, he just slipped a finger inside.”I almost dropped my phone.“Look, I think we’re going to go inside so he can. “If you make a sound, you’re going to have to explain this to your friends.”“Fuck you.” I hissed venomously, secretly aching to have him inside of me again.The anger that had been present before flared up again but then a small, dangerous grin made its way into its place. He spanked me, painfully enough that I had to bite my lip to suppress a cry, and wound his fingers into my hair.His warm body leaning into me was a respite from the icy marble, so much that I couldn’t help but moan and let. "It's you, damn it, it's you, Tim! I'm crying! Do you know what you doin there? The matron tells me that for a whole host of people in thereyour visit is the high point of their week, they talk about it for daysafter you've gone and then are always asking is today Sunday? Is Timmycoming?" Well some of them get very few visitors, so that's sort of bound tohappen," I said."Tim, as I was leaving, one old lady, Mrs Cavendish, do you know her?" Inodded. "She grabbed hold of me and asked, 'Are you.