By now I was no longer a person to this mob. I was their fuck toy and they did not want to stop. I lost track of how many times some of them returned ...or another ride. And they started getting rougher. The face slapping started, but I refused to fight. I needed them tomorrow. They played rock, paper, scissors while they waited for my pussy, the winner getting to slap me next. My hair was in a constant state of being pulled, so much my forehead ached. When the cum and mascara was so thick they. It was hardly another fifteen minutes before we were in our sixth floor room, naked, with Peter on top of me, between my widely spread, legs wrapped round his back having fervid, energetic and making up for lost time, sex. This time, though, I recognised it was more than sex, we were making love and that recognition shook me. It shook me most when I thought that he is hardly any older than my daughter! * ‘I’ve never really done it,’ he said rather bashfully adding. ‘Sorry Mandy.’ ‘Don’t be. More

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