He put one hand at the small of my back, keeping me at the edge of the washer, the other wrapped up in my hair and holding my head against his shoulde.... Then he started fucking me, slowly at first, sliding in and out with long strokes, with a little push at the end so I knew just how deep he was, but his breathing started to get heavier quickly, and his strokes became shorter, faster, until he was sure to rock the machine right away from the wall with the way he was pounding into me. His cock. . but something gave me the feeling he was willing to help me out with more than juice. I didn't know how to answer. If I say yes, I'm the new bar slut. If i say no, well.... I didn't say anything. I just stood there like a deer in the headlights frozen by fear. The fear of giving in to my desire rather than my moral obligation to class. I'm a lady not the new bar bitch to be banged in the basement. So I stood there...As I stood, he repeated the question as he stepped into me. He was. More

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