He loved the way her ass pushed out the back of her skirt. Just as Mr. Thompson was looking at Sarah’s ass Hank Jackson was in his basement office,...his door closed, his huge black cock in his hand. He was thinking about the stuck-up white bitch that had disrespected him this morning. His cock grew hard as he thought of her, reaching its full length of 9 inches. He rubbed up and down, picturing her white pussy sliding up and down on it. That bitch needed a good fucking and he was very. ” I stood frozen in my spot, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what he had planned. “You’re in the wrong restroom,” I finally managed to squeak out. He smirked as he began to slowly walk towards me. “Oh, Stacey. I cannot even begin to describe how wrong you are.” I could feel the weight of the balls in my pussy, moving slightly because of the moisture leaking out. “Todd, what are you doing?” “Exactly what do you want me to do?” He whispered, now inches from my face. I stared into his. The young man meekly asks “Would you like another barrel of pickle juice?” “Ain’t got time!” comes the reply. “Big John’s a-comin’!”An older, balding, white haired, duck hunter from Northern Minnesota, walked into a jewellery store this past Friday evening with a beautiful much younger gal at his side.He told the jeweller he was looking for a special ring for his girlfriend. The jeweller looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring.The man said “No, I’d like to see something a little. “How may I help you?”“Where can we talk in private?”The security office was through an unobtrusive door beside the check-in counter. Down a bright corridor, through two more doors. Into the belly of the beast.We sat, Mrs. Graves behind her desk, me in front of it. She was a little past 50, a few solid pounds over what she probably would like to weigh. A nameplate on the desk read Pamela Graves.There wasn’t a way for me to do this without divulging Phillip’s name eventually. I had to trust this.