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What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I just went heart forward.Familiar with the restaurant from driving past, I’d never eaten there. Its outside decor ...roclaimed it too upscale for our family budget. Going in was entering unfamiliar terrain, economic, social and moral.I was scared but fear was part of the enticement. Scanning the parking lot from across the street, I wondered if he even came, with a false hope he didn’t. There it was, his black Porsche, parked near the front entrance. Knowing I. He then pressed his body firmly down on hers using his weight to trap her."No please don't tickle me. I don't want to be tickled. I'll knee you. I really will," she was somehow able to realistically combine pleading and threats.He moved over her and forced himself between her legs."Try kneeing me now," he said with a husky laugh."You bastard," she said from between gritting teeth."Are you ticklish under your chin, or the side of your neck?" Luke asked.He leaned in to blow a silent whistle of. "I wish you would bend me over your table and fuck me from behind with your massive willy..." And from there, her fantasy would leave her wriggling in her chair to let her wet pussy lips smoosh together. This would spread her juices into her knickers (white cotton, of course, like all good minister's daughters wore), and let her slide freely against the aged school chair.At the end of every lesson with Mr. Williams, she would linger by his desk, hoping he would smell her sopping hole and want. We made some calls and found out that we could just walk into the Planned Parenthood downtown and they'd give me an exam and issue me the appropriate birth control that day.That was an experience to tell my grandkids about. Dougie was the only guy there, and the woman at reception and the two in the waiting room all looked at him as if they were afraid he was going to attack them. We found a couple of chairs away from everybody else.I went up to the receptionist and she asked me, "Are you here.
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