My skirt was torn from me and exposed my wet shaved pussy. The man stepped up and Mark went into our room. With my hands held roughly above my head he...ripped open my shirt, popping off all the buttons. He kissed urgently around my cleavage, his hot tongue making me squirm. Mark came back with one hand behind his back. I was curious what he was hiding. A blindfold was placed over my eyes and fuzzy cuffs around my wrists. I had bought them, waiting for the right time to suggest using them.. So he had a little hobby, when not stealing or fixing. It was rape and robbery in the London area around Cannery Wharf where he hung around waiting for women on there own or their way home so he could attack them. God, he loved the fear in their face. To take them and force them made him feel real good. Like I said, a real class ?A? scumbag. (When he died after prison five years later, no one bothered about his death. In fact, most who gave it a thought at all said, ?Best thing, it should. I turned back to look at Roy; he was staring in open disbelief at me. “What the fuck Nick? You and Terri made out? When and where did this happen, and what the fuck were you two doing?”Aside from looking incredulous, Roy also had a keen quizzical look on his face as well.“Well… it started at lunch time yesterday and then finished up just before our bus left the school. I really can’t go into too much detail or Terri will tear my dick off. Maybe Heather will tell Julie and she’ll tell you. From. He did everything in his power to keep her. She wanted more than a poet, even though she was a poet herself. Sure they shared a love for poetry, but common interests wore thin when one half of the marriage did better than the other half.When they met in New York City in the summer of 1993, Preston was a rising star and Amanda a young co-ed just out of New York University. Preston gave a reading there to a packed house, and afterwards the elite few of the university’s writing program were.