You gasp and pull back. “Pinch them harder,” you say. I do and you cry out.“Pull up your skirt,” I say. You look at me. Your eyes are gree... and very direct. “If you take it we’ll both enjoy it more,” you say. I’m a bit stunned; this is not who I expected you to be. I reach down with both hands and pull your skirt up over your hips and slide your panties down to your ankles. Then I step back and look at you – your arms pinned to your sides with your sweater and your tits and pussy. But, he had openly insulted me. Well, it wasn’t exactly open. Nobody else witnessed it. What more could you ask for in a man? It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it. What the hell does that mean? What am I reading into a tone I perceived? That he doesn’t respect my ideas or my choices? He tells me all the time he does and the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. What was I angry about? Now I was getting angry that I didn’t have a clue what I was angry about. Maybe I still didn’t. More

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