Fucking Indian Girl With Pleasure
He stood close behind her, grabbing her wrists. He un-cuffed her right hand, and with one swift pull of a rope, pulled her arm above her head. He then again cuffed her left wrist to her right. Angel stood there sobbing into her gag. She knew that she was at his mercy. As she stood there, Angel could hear the birds in the woods singing, a truck going down the highway, over a mile away, but couldn't hear the stranger that had abducted her. After a couple of minutes, she heard the leaves rustle. Footsteps, she thought, or maybe a animal? She struggled at the restraints, but they were just too strong. Angel managed a muffled scream as she felt a hand against her back. She felt the cold steel against her skin and the sound of her blouse tearing as he cut her shirt from her body. Slowly, he cut off her blouse in several little pieces. He unhooked her bra, then ran his hands around to the front and lifted the bra over her beautiful breasts. Angel felt his hands barely touching her, almost. I had never before seen the outfit she was wearing, and brother, I know her wardrobe backwards and forwards. Normally, she shows all new clothes off to me before going out in them, but this time she sneaked one over on me. It was a slinky silver lamé dress, one shoulder bare, the other sleeved to a point over her lilylike hand, and held in place with a ring on her middle finger. It was cut to fit her figure, and the hem began high on her hip on the sleeve side, and plunged to the floor on the other. It even ‘trained’ a little in back, and bless her, bare legs were not for her! She never did go in for that, which always made my heart stop, because I do so love a woman wearing hose. It sleeks the legs and hides all the knots in the kneebones, the tendons and veins in the feet, the razor stubble and the little cuts and bruises that bare legs are prone to get. Stockings equal perfection in my book. She finished the outfit with a pair of silver stiletto pumps. Hallelujahgawdalmighty WHAT.
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