I need to cum...hard and several times. I need a slut, someone I can use. I thought of you. This is what I'd do to you. I'd call you up and tell you t... show up at my place, to knock on my door wearing nothing but panties and high heels. Yeah, my neighbors might see you. But so what? I like showing my slut off. I'd answer the door already hard. I'm so damned horny right now, hope you can keep up. I don't intend to give you a choice though. I'd take you and push you against the wall. My lips. I saw the dark wet patch on the gusset between my legs. I gathered all my courage from deep within me, hooked my thumbs on the thin strings of the thong and slowly pushed it down my hips, and over my thighs. Falling back on the desk, with my legs in the air, I removed the small lace panty. Chantelle captured every moment of my exposure. Bending my outstretched legs to finally rid myself of any cover, I saw Chantelle’s eyes between my open legs. She stopped taking pictures. She just stared at my. She was not only going through physical and mental abuse, but was also struggling with the fact of how unfortunate she was to have met her husband, Sean, my father.My dad had gone to Russia for a week with his friends during his college days and had apparently loved the girls there so much that he learned Russian and decided to find a bride from there.However, it all remained a dream until his second marriage broke down, and he was facing a lonely life in a two-bedroom house near a small town. “Steve, I’m sorry! I had no idea!” Tracey said when I walked into the room.“Tracey, there’s no need to apologize. You know how I am with friends, and I consider you a friend.”“But we’ve hardly talked over the past seven or eight years.”“I’m not sure that matters much, in the scheme of things. I’m happy to do what Marty asked.”“Trace, please don’t fight me on this,” Marty pleaded.She looked at him, then at me, then back at him and smiled. Tracey and I stayed for a few hours, talking about things.