Entombed.There was a room key rattling around in my shirt pocket, and it wasn't mine. I had a hunch its owner had red hair.Wiping the sweat off my bro..., I walked down the hall on the thirteenth floor. "Gory Gorman never runs from a challenge," I kept repeating under my breath. Dammit, I hated the nickname "Gory." It was what my childhood tormentors used to taunt me with when I'd turn down a dare. "Gory, Gory, 'fraid he'll be sorry." It was why I've landed in deep doodoo so often in my adult. She had gasped when I entered, and after a few seconds of disbelief, she exhaled and began to breathe again, her chest heaving beneath her shirt. My eyes returned to hers, and we stared at each other for a moment before the most subtlest of clues gave me an encouraging feeling. The twitch of her eyebrow, and the slightest tilt of her head to the side, and the resuming of the movement of her fingers in the juicy folds of her pussy gave hints of openness to exploration.I decided then and there to. Her breathing suddenly increased, she felt thecool rubber tool at her crotch. The leash pulled a little. There wasnowhere to go even if she wanted to. Her neck pulled back and the fakecock slid inside. Oh that feeling was what she recalled from last weekendas she became accustommed to the intruder. But then Connie started todrive in and out, her neck held back by the leash. Never had she felt soopen, so vulnerable, so 'there for the taking'. In just a few shortseconds it overwhelmed her and the. She continued on in her studies which culminated with a PhD in electrical engineering from the Illinois Institute of Technology. At a conference she had met Peter Simmons who was nine years older than she and lived in California. He had an undergrad engineering degree and had gone on to law school. Pete and another friend had split away from a law firm they had been working for and started up their own practice. They specialized in patent law and with a number of small manufacturing defense.
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