. yes, Sir." "Or perhaps you 'want' me to rip this pretty dress from your body." He took hold of it in his fist between my breasts. "You'd love that,...wouldn't you?" I swallowed and stopped struggling. "But it's one of my favourites, Sir," I whined. Surely he wouldn't. "You don't think I would?" I looked at him imploringly. I needed fucking. I didn't need my second favourite dress torn to shreds. God... I could feel how wet I was getting. I'd put my panties back on earlier. They were getting. I had been screwed so many times in the back seat of that car that it almost felt like a boudoir to me. It was solid black and sat low to the ground on tires and wheels that set me back almost the price of the car itself.I didn't realize when I bought it that it had been used for a few years by the Sheriff's as an unmarked car for the anti-drug squad. All I knew was that when I went on an appointment into some tough areas to do an hour of private dancing or special massage therapy, I could see. More

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