I thought I could see the latter breathing and assumed the giant was too. As far as the guy who’d peeled out, well, who knew? I was only concerned about Simone. She’d run across the street after beaning the tall guy, hopped on his motorcycle, and taken off after the third guy. But, after all the noise around the corner, everything was silence. She’d told me to stay put, but I feared for, well, pretty much everything. Was she OK? Did the guy get away? Did he hurt her? What about the two guys here? Were they about to get up? What should I do? Should I call the police? Nothing made any sense. Who was Simone? Until the last couple of minutes Simone had been a 22- or 23-year-old (You’d think I could remember which, but she’d told me and I immediately forgot because I’d been staring at her tits. Now I was embarrassed to ask. I still wanted to know what size bra she wore, though. But I digress.) woman who went to my gym. She said she’d left her hometown when she was 19 and bounced around. In a moment, he’s deep inside me, and I wriggle happily on his embedded cock. He reaches up and pulls me back against him, and I relax, my head resting on his shoulder. His big hands fondle my breasts, his fingers toying with my erect nipples as I gently squirm on him. I sense he still wants to go slow. And I want to stay just like this forever, his cock imprisoned within me.It seems an eternity since I’ve last looked at the stage, but it’s only a few moments. The sweet, pungent hashish has warped my time sense. The girl on the bed writhes more lasciviously now as though being attacked by some unseen lover. She has placed the picture on the bedside table and both her hands are running over her body as though out of control, her fingertips dancing over her flat, ivory tummy and coming to rest together at the vee of her down-covered pussy. She groans on the stage at the sudden contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs, and she pulls her knees up, her toes on.
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