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Brandy trembled as she dressed. She pulled on panties and jeans, dug out a seldom wore bra and put it on. She threw on a loose t shirt and her old sneakers. She was certain they were going to kill her. They were going to take her somewhere and dump her body in the woods where no one would find it. Andre loomed in the doorway, he had a pistol in his hand and a hard look in his eye. “You’re coming with us little girl. If you scream for help or try to run away, I’ll shoot you and I’ll shoot anyone who comes to help you, got it?” “Please I won’t tell the cops, I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just leave me alone, please.” Brandy begged, her voice shook as bad as her abused body. “Shut the fuck up bitch. All I want to hear out of you is ‘Yes sir’ and ‘No sir’. Got it?” Andre growled. “Yes sir.” Brandy whispered meekly. Trey grabbed her by the arm again and pulled her out of her bedroom, thru the living room and out the door. She followed with her head hung, eyes down. Trey shoved her. I remember the first time my boyfriend (of the time) opened his pants. We had been kissing, deep passionate sloppy kissing. He had reached into my shirt to squeeze my breasts through the padding of my bra. That night I took the step of unhooking the clasp and letting his hand slip the sweaty cup off my breast and feel me directly.As his hand found the hard, tingling mountain of my nipple I gasped. Suddenly I had to have my hand similarly occupied with his flesh. I wanted to explore by feel the contours of his erection, just as he was exploring the surface of my breast, tracing the transition from smooth taut skin to rougher aureole, from rough aureole to stiff nipple. I wanted what I knew was straining for release behind his zipper. I wanted my hand to experience what I had only seen in pictures, the veined shaft, the smooth space below the head, the bulge of the head itself. I wanted to cradle his cock head and feel it's blood warmth.He gave my nipple a tentative pinch between his.
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