I threw off this bit of fantasy quickly. I simply didn't have the knowledge of martial arts to support anything like that. What did I know? I knew eno...gh to teach dirty tricks of fighting and a basic knowledge of Tae Kwon Do and Tai Chi. In other words enough to surprise a man long enough to escape and maybe some blows that could do some damage if used at the right time. Mostly I would be able to instill an attitude that defense was possible.I stood up and realized somewhat to my surprise that. 'I may hunt but I don't kill, at least not any more. The girl could be dropped off on a street corner by a suburban mall and the matter would be done or she could stay with me. I decided not to choose for the moment.My best guess was that Mr. "Fuck it" was dead meat; if that was the cops or the feds, they wouldn't miss a speeding BMW. He was heading for the turnpike, the dumbass, the tollbooth registers the vehicle, the license plate and your face as the car goes through. Amateur.The girl was. Michael Hugh Evans. She had known him for as long as she could remember. They lived in the same neighborhood, and their mothers were best friends, so they had played together as toddlers. They both went to St. David’s Elementary, and then on to St. Patrick’s High School. He had given her that name in seventh grade, at the school St. Patrick’s Day dance. Erin O’Malley was especially proud of her Irish heritage, and wore her green Erin Go Bragh T-shirt that day. What she DIDN’T wear was a bra.. I pull at my bonds, even though all it does is cause them to cut deeply into my flesh.He grabs my aching breasts and pulls them together over his cock. He stretches my nipples; they feel like they are going to rip off! He unclamps them, I feel a little relief, but then he starts fucking my boobs, and they hurt so bad from the earlier torture. He stops fucking my breasts and moves up to my face, rubbing his cock over my lips, blinded eyes, cheeks, and hair. He starts cumming, he forces some of.