Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a whore and all it took was the right circumstances for me to surrender all my self-respect, my morals, and my body to...whoever wanted it. Giovanni had reached the soles of my feet. “Turn over,” he said. I did as he said. He started over at my neck, slowly working his way down my body, exciting me again, my nipples growing hard, flinty points, as he caressed them. My pussy becoming molten lava once more, liquifying, preparing to be fucked. He worked his way down. " Tara just gave in at thatstage the next few minutes were just a dream.The garter belt was fitted to her then the silky sheenyness of thestockings slide up her legs and were snapped onto the straps. Then shewas slipped into a black Lycra cocktail dress which she noticed wasshort enough to reveal the tops of her stockings. As they dressed herthe girls all called her Tara and cooed about how sexy a girl she was.Then they slid her feet into a pair of black strappy 3" heeled shoes.The head dresser. More

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