Everything she and Trish shared had been recorded by her blackmailer. Her victory instantly turned to ashes and Heather sat back in her chair, shaken ...o her core.“Well, fuck.”Her blackmailer’s leverage had just become far more dangerous and Heather tapped fingers on the phone as she considered her options. She needed help and, ironically, Sean was the only one she could trust. He was going to be livid, she had no doubt of that. Still, his campaign was in as much jeopardy and tracing that bug. She was still holding my hand as I told her she looked gorgeous today, this made her face light up and I felt her hand guide mine to her knee.I quivered, not knowing what to do, but Aunty Lucy reassured me it everything was fine as she pushed my hand under her floral dress. Further and further up her leg it travelled, as it did she opened her legs and let out a small groan, gripping it tighter. My fingers met with her panties, Aunty Lucy told me they were the ones I was wanking into yesterday. Well, I happen to know the answer. My name is Elisabeth O’Braonain. I’m an Irishwoman living in Boston. My profession is that of secretary. My hobby is stealing Black men from Black women. How do I do it? It’s so easy, really. The average Black man living in America has many factors working against him. In all likelihood, he comes from a relatively poor background. His father was most likely not around, for a variety of reasons. Maybe the father was a deadbeat. Or maybe he was unprepared for. Making me squirm the higher he got. Pulling my hair so that my head turned on its side as reached my neck. He bit my neck again, and rammed his whole cock in my pussy, ripping it a little. My body jerked and I cried out in pleasure and pain. He growled in my ear, "Is this what you wanted?" He thrusted hard, "My big, thick cock in your," another hard thrust, "tight, dripping wet pussy?" He started fucking me faster, his hand still pulling my hair, the other hand digging into my hip. Getting more.