Tracy was doing the same to me, but with greater urgency. She had wrenched up my blouse and pulled my bra up to my neck and was caressing and stroking...my boobs. Our mouths mashed together as the excitement rose within us. I managed to undo her jeans; I was so desperate to get to her pussy. I pushed them and her panties down her thighs and at once, Tracy opened her legs, inviting me in. My fingers brushed over her thin pubic hair and then curled up in to her soaking cunt, my thumb pressed hard. I start to head back over to my clothes, I step out and realizing a little late that I am not wearing anything. I can feel your eyes fixed on me, my nipples are hard with the dry air cooling me. I turn my head to see you watching me get dressed. I blush deeply as I slide my shirt on without my bra and pulling my pants on quickly. The thin material of the shirt is sticking to my breasts, my nipples are hard and very noticeable, my pussy is wet from watching you undress and I know that my fingers. Every minute, day, and occurrence, every happy moment, probably every bad moment, too, everything would get imprinted in my memory. Or so I thought. Years went by and I started thinking of my good old diary again. At first, I believed I had misplaced it in one of the moving boxes and since there were still a few that have not been emptied even after all this time, I believed it still might be there. Of course the old memories did not escape me, but I wanted to refresh them. I wanted to remember. Suddenly, "Do you call this sucking, you piece of shit?" he shouted. I was stunned. Grabbing my hair he slapped my face. "I could get my dick sucked better than this at free glory holes. Cheap street hookers are more useful than you, whore!" he punctuated his sentence with a big spit on my face. After several slaps and spits, he pushed me to the wall. He put my hands together above my head. "I'll show you what sucking is. Open your mouth whore!" and without waiting no more he started to fuck my.
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