They were dressed, except for shoes, and seemingly unaffected by my being there.“Put on your shoes, we’re going out for lunch. What’s that place...the golfer has commercials for?”“Red Robin,” Richard said. “The guy you are thinking of is Johnny Masters, although he is officially retired.”I let Richard do the driving, and it took five minutes to the place. Despite living here my whole life in this town, I had never been to a Red Robin’s before.The bouquet of the place was a mix of alcohol, I. A flood of heat burned through her as she was entered, fingers questing into her dripping wet cunt, curving within her, massaging her clenching hole, exploring her most intimate of places. She felt fevered, voices thick with lust mocking her, naming her slut and whore. Humiliation at being used like this warred with pride at being the object of their lust. She gasped as a mouth found her nipple, sucking it between hungry lips as teeth sank into her other breast, all the while expert fingers. More

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