Deceived - Part 1 New York Read Online Free PDF Page B

my
crotch. With one hand clutched to my breast and the other sticking
to the wetness in my panties, my imagination launched a recap of
Patrick and I, back at the office in the little file room where I
tried on the dress. The mere thought of taking my clothes off in
his private space, catapulted yet another surge of warm wonderful
tingles all the way down and I had to touch myself. The flashback
of our intense kiss was making me so hot.
    The area between my legs
was quivering with excitement and I had to respond. I hiked up my
dress, slid my hand into my lace, thong panties and gently started
rubbing my finger on top of my clit. It felt delicious. I
involuntarily let out a little moan. I was imagining Patrick’s warm
breath on my neck, his lips gently touching my skin and the soft
spot between my shoulder and neck. With the panties now down my
black boots, I started rubbing harder, as I imagined his warm hands
fondling and squeezing tight around my voluptuous breasts and the
tips of his fingers massaging my nipples.
    In my fantasy, I was
unzipping his pants and his hard cock was straining against his
boxers; delivering a small drop of pre-cum, evidence of his lust
for me. I imagined that I tore his shorts down with one hand and
with a firm grip I wrapped my other hand around his enormous penis
stroking it hard. I imagined his hand moving towards my bare mound,
as my fingers were now running deep circles around my now engorged
clit. I was now so close to exploding in a massive orgasm but a
loud screeching voice abruptly interrupted me.
    “ Is that you in there
Chloe? What are you doing?”
    Fuck!! It’s the
Baroness!
    She had been standing
right outside my bathroom stall and had clearly heard everything.
Still feeling heady from the alcohol and the blood rush of my
sexual excitement, I rolled to my left and my shoulder hit the door
of the stall making the door lock clatter. I laughed a drunken
laugh. Busted.
    I rearranged my
undergarment and smoothed my skirt back down. Unlocking the door I
stumbled out of the stall, slurring my speech, “What’s up
B-Baroness? I put emphasis on the B sound and practically spat the
words in her face. Baroness Bitch! I
wanted to say.  I was teetering from
the drinks but somehow in my delirium, I found a renewed
determination to stand up to this woman.
    “ Do you really think being
a Baroness makes you special?“
    Her eyes narrowed seething
with impending anger. I could tell from her look that she wasn’t
used to being confronted in this manner.
    “ I may be from Iowa but at
least I have a tight little ass, unlike your droopy old sagging
butt. So take your Botox laden lips and please get out of my
way?”
    I attempted to brush past
the Baroness to re-apply my lip gloss in the mirror, when I felt a
vice-like grip on my throat. I had been spun around by her maneuver
and I felt the air being pushed out of my lungs, as I was slammed
up against the bathroom wall. The hard jolt sent a ringing in my
ears. I felt a hand sliding up under my dress and grabbing my
crotch hard, as the other hand on my throat made it nearly
impossible for me to breath.
    “ You have absolutely no
idea what you are up against you dirty little cunt. If I were you,
I'd run home, pack my bags and go back to that miserable little
town I came from,” she warned.
    I heard a muffled rip of my
lace thong, which was still soaking wet from masturbating. My
peripheral vision warped into a black blur, as I felt two
fingers grotesquely thrust into my vagina, and the baroness grunted
into my face, “I bet that you were fantasizing about dear Patrick
fucking you like this while you were masturbating in there. Keep
dreaming. He’s a million miles out of your league, you fucking
little whore.”
    A wave of nausea turned my
stomach as her sour alcohol breath spewed out the words. I was
nearly on the brink of losing consciousness, when the Baroness
finally released her death grip on my throat; a grip born out of
jealousy and hatred.