She insisted on dressinglike she lived in the 50s and had some odd ideas. But this might havetopped them all. Carol had met Hank many times and never noticed anythingunusual about his chest. The notion that he might actually need to wear awoman's brassiere seemed impossible to her. I mean she knew aboutgynecomastia but it was mostly an appearance issue. But she had made anappointment for her niece and her husband. It would be at the end of theday, so no other customers would be in the shop. She always closed up onSaturdays, so they could take as much or as little time as needed.The drive to store went in silence. Usually Dani would chatter on aboutjust about anything, but today she was quiet. I could tell this worriedher, although I had repeatedly stressed to her that my health was fine.As we pulled into the parking lot, I was thankful that it was empty.Still, my nerves began to get to me and I tried one more time to talkDani out of this silliness. But she just shook her head no, and. “Oh, yes, I believe I do,” I managed to whisper back at him. Damn, I was panting now, my cheeks were blushed and I was ready for him and he could see it written in my eyes. He looked at the passenger’s cabin, and everybody seemed to be either sleeping or watching a movie, and with no further notice he gently pushed me into one of the empty bathrooms, locking the door behind him. Fast didn’t describe what happened then. He grabbed me by my wrists, taking my left one to his mouth and biting hard over the tattoo, as if he wanted to make his own mark on me. I moaned, debating between pain and pleasure. He released me and taking his hands to my top, he took my breasts out of it, kneading them roughly, leaning down to take my hard nipples in his mouth and biting them hard. I let out a small cry and he bit me harder before he demanded, “You must keep it silent dear, bit your sweet lips for me.” I nodded, my body already shuddering, as he kept his sweet torture on my breasts, kissing,.
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