Tracy Jones had a great life - a happy marriage, a good job, and a big house in a nice neighborhood. A little more than a week ago, all that was put into jeopardy in a split second. While returning from a night out with her friends, she had a little too much to drink and on her way home, and she struck the neighbor's son with her car.
Instead of stopping and doing the right thing, she panicked. Unfortunately for her, the boy recognized her face as she fled the scene. It was the same face he'd fantasized about countless times throughout his childhood. When the police questioned him at the hospital, he said it all happened so fast, he wasn't sure who might have hit him. Maybe with time, his head would clear...maybe not. He couldn't help thinking that it all depended on just how apologetic Mrs. Jones would be.
Imagine her surprise when Jack showed up on her doorstep a couple days later, both arms in casts.. Jack explained that he knew exactly what had happened -- what SHE had done. The implication was clear. In a way, it was a relief. She had been wracked with guilt since that night. Seeing her chance to explain her side and maybe keep this whole situation private, she quickly invited him inside.
Fast forward about 20 minutes...
Jack: "Sorry Mrs. Jones, this just isn't working for me. Maybe if you took your shirt off, it would help?"
Tracy: "Seriously Jack? I can't do that! I'm married and old enough to be your mother!"
Jack: "Mrs. Jones, I'd do it myself, but YOU ran over me with your car. If you can't help me with this, maybe the police..."
Tracy: "Fuck...Fine Jack, fine. But just the shirt and this is as far as we go."
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After a slight hesitation, Tracy slipped out of her shirt. Her large breasts hung heavy and Jack's eyes went wide. He had dreamed of seeing this for so long. Of all days to not wear a bra! She couldn't bear to look at him. She had never felt so utterly humiliated and helpless in her life.
Jack: "Tight your grip, Mrs. Jones and a little faster please."
Tracy: "Please...just hurry..."
Jack: "Your hands are a little dry, Mrs. Jones. Maybe if you...used your tongue a little..."
Tracy: "
...this is not happening......this is not happening......this is not happening..."
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