The following story is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individual is purely coincidental. Part I I suppose I should start this with a brief introduction of myself. My name is Sara Greene and I’m 27 years old. I stand about 5’8” without heels and have a 34C-25-34 figure topped with strawberry blonde hair. My tits are nice and firm and I love to go to the store braless in just a thin t-shirt or romper and tease all the men. ...
(story continues from Nascar Weekend) Chapter 2 When the hand clamped over my mouth every thought in my head evaporated. My brain switched to panic and fear. I started struggling as best as I could. With my level of drunkenness and my arms pinned, I couldn’t muster much of an effective fight. I felt something being pulled down over my head and then over my eyes. When it got down to the hand over my mouth the hand was pulled away and whatever it was, was yanked down quickly. I felt it pulled down under my chin and then felt it being pulled tighter around my neck as if it had a drawstring. The hand clamped over my mouth again only it wasn’t as forceful on my lips and I realized whatever it was that was covering my face was padded. While the hand wasn’t pressed against my face as tightly, the padding was forced up under my nose and started to make breathing difficult. ...
When you live in a small city life can be pretty boring. Small cities are basically conservative by nature and when you work for the local bank, like I do, you pretty much need to give the appearance of conforming to the norm. Word gets around much too easily to be seen behaving poorly in public or have loose rumors about you. About the only time anybody in this town has fun is once a year when the NASCAR race comes to the nearby track. Around here that’s a bigger party than St. Patrick’s Day. ...