Somebody had kidnapped her from her own bathroom. She thought of blood, the littered bathroom. Slowly she got accustomed to color of the room. She looked around gloomily for sometime. Then fell back to sleep again. It was more than an hour before she woke up again. This time completely aware that she was in some other room. She thought of the dungeons she had seen the kidnappers would keep the victims in movies. But this was no dungeon. The house more than well furnished. With the double bed she was on, the curtains, marble and wooden floors. Everything was well enough for a VIP. As she started to pull herself up she felt a sour pain in her neck and between her thighs. As she brought her hands near her pussy, she could feel that it was on only covered with a loin cloth, not also a panty. Then she suddenly became aware that she was wearing nothing except that. And slowly, everything cam back to her mind. Abilene fucking the guys, the blood trail, that woman, everything. The thought of. All that was left was that fucking bitch Melanie, but my term was coming to an end, and I had to make my move. So there I sat. Nervous out of my mind as I drafted emails to the entire staff regarding a conference meeting tomorrow at 12:30pm that Mr. Hopkins required everyone to attend. Mr. Hopkins, Mr. Strong, and Dr Crawford all got separate emails that would guarantee their attendance. My pussy was dripping through my khaki slacks. I pressed send, then walked right into TJ's (Thomas Hopkins Jr.) office, closed the blinds and hiked my miniskirt over my hips. It was close, but TJ fucked harder than his old man. And I needed it.As he pumped into me I kept picturing Melanie. She was absolutely stunning, and dripped raw sexuality everywhere she went. I pictured her fist buried in my cunt, thrusting in and out as TJ did. I imagined her soft lips swallowing my willing tongue with impunity. The images swirled with the elation of TJ's sexual prowess and before long I sprayed his $3,000 suit.
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