Just like that he pulled back and continued pulling back, popping free. I just sat there staring at him, feeling stunned. The bastard couldn't do this...right now."If you want me to finish off, stand up and bend over with your hands on the bench”.He ordered me as he smiled.He was joking. He was bluffing. No way was he going to stop just like that. My body was screaming one thing at me and my mind another. My body won. Without any conscious decision I bent myself over the bench. He came around. I only pointed out that you were a slut. I didn’t say I wanted you to stop being one,” I said and smiled.“I don’t understand,” She replied.“Well, perhaps in a situation like this, being a slut might actually work to your advantage.”“What are you saying?”“I’m saying that being a slut might get these pictures deleted from my phone and from my computer.” I said and undid my belt.“Mike, you’re fucking crazy. There’s no way that’s happening!” She said and turned to walk towards the stairs.“I wonder. I walked fast, and I had not realized how long and how far down again I had walked, until I got to the precipice. I stepped out of the wood, suddenly face to face with the evening sun that was hovering above the horizon, and a few feet in front of me the ground ended abruptly — fifty feet below me lay a small bay, and, maybe five hundred feet away, the sea. I had finally reached the other side of the island!I had to admit, though, that from what I could see it did not hold many promises for. He is in his mid thirties, six foot tall, with the physique of one who obviously works out often, no fat on him at all. He has sandy brown coloured hair, and these piercing light blue eyes that let you know almost every emotion that man is feeling. I often thought that he would be excellent husband material, and I could never understand why some attractive woman had not stolen his heart yet. He always makes me feel kind of inferior, almost submissive to him, though I would never dream of ever.