Every thrust into me felt like a knife being rammed into my prostate. The desk that I was bent over on had a mirror in front of it, so I'd occasionall... look up and see this almost demonic look in his face. As he fucked me, he had that look like he wanted to hurt me, that it gave him some pleasure to cause me pain while he fucked me. His thrust were pretty violent and hard. Me being the good faggot that I am, I winced in pain from time-to-time and stayed quiet for him, as he told me to shut up.. It had been such a bore. The other kids were too young, the adults too old, her brother and sister too self-absorbed. She'd hated being there until she walked out onto the patio.She'd noticed him immediately; slender with dark hair slightly too long, deep dark-brown eyes, a wide mouth with a slight wry smile on his lips, tight jeans, loose white T-shirt and a black motorbike helmet held in one hand, his other holding a green bottle of beer. The way he stood made him seem relaxed. But the way. More

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