It was raining and a dark, February night in Salford. He was very tall, easily 6ft 3", about 50 and had a bristling strawberry blonde beard, which ble...ded into a full head of wiry, ginger hair. He couldn't have looked more Scottish if he'd been wearing a kilt. As it was he was wearing jeans and a white shirt, which was undone at the throat, and a off-brown tweed jacket. In contrast to the first time I had been with Mr. Newark, I very much fancied Donald and told him I thought he was very. Julia's father had been patient, and though he'd tried - unsuccessfully - to get her to talk to him, he wasn't able to break through, get to the bottom of whatever was happening to her mother.That day, when he arrived home wearing ladies' garments, Roger had become just as bad as Julia's mother, if not worse.Where Trisha had seemed quite happy to leave her teenage daughter alone in her room, the new Roger was constantly pushing for her to come and join the family. He was obsessed with the idea. “Did you want to go out to lunch? How did you get over here?”“Your parents picked me up. I’ll go with you,” she answered.“We can go out to eat, if you’d prefer,” Mom said.I was tempted to say no but decided to make nice. “I’ll find you in the parking lot in a few minutes. I’ll follow you.”My parents and Suzie left, and I found myself with Jeana and Mrs. Rogers. “Carl, I know this isn’t my business, but you only visit your home?”I shrugged, and then took a deep breath. Mrs. Rogers was a good. I became a little concerned more especially as the path became darker but excited. I walked a little faster, suddenly felt an arm around my neck. In a commanding voice he said, "Don't worry slut. I know what you want. You're begging for my cock. If you do exactly what I say I won't hurt you but if you don't..." He left the sentence open and but he knew I was a sissy slut. He pushed me off the path towards a clearing where there was a bench. He still had his arm locked around my neck, tight.
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