.'incorrectpassword'. I felt the colour drain from my face. He'd done it, he'dchanged all the password log-ins...I couldnt access any of my accounts.Almost sobbing with fear I logged on to facebook as a guest and looked upmy profile, dreading what was going to be on display. Nothing! Well,the same pic I'd had up for years. I gasped with relief, he was joking,surely, its all just a joke, it must be. It must be...I kept desperatelytelling myself that for the rest of the day.Evening came and I'd begun to convince myself that everything was ok,he'd have been in touch now if he wanted something from me, surely. Mymobile beeped and with a feeling of dread I saw that it was him "get onyour computer now...on messenger...your new pass-word is "slut" ". Forfive minutes I sat there motionless, paralysed with fear, "if I justignore him he'll grow bored" I tried to tell myself. The phone beepedagain...'I said NOW" the message read. I walked on trembling knees to thecomputer and logged on as he'd. And then I came all over his hand; pussy juice streamed out of my gaping pink hole and ran down my legs stopping only briefly at my panties before continuing to the wooden floor. Mr. Anderson finally released his grip on my hair and removed his thumb from my twitching slit. My milky ejaculate dribbled down my legs following the same path my pussy juice had taken. He stood behind me now, wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed himself close against me. I could feel the bulge in his pants just above my still exposed ass. I suddenly became aware of my hands; the left was still grasping Mr. Anderson's firm ass, the other had released and was still clasping my left breast, with a swollen red nipple between the index and middle fingers. As casually as possible I relocated my hands and wrapped them over Mr. Andersons. His thumb was still moist when I interlocked my fingers with his. I rested my head back against his chest and looked out the window, it was starting to get dark. It felt.
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