"Sure, why not? I've had a nice time talking with you. Haven't you?" she asked. "Of course. This is the nicest time I have had in a very long time. I ...just thought... you know..." "What?" she asked. "Well you are a beautiful model, Elizabeth... and I am just a, well I'm just a mailroom clerk." "Tim, you are more than your job. You are a very nice man and a gentleman. You don't know how refreshing it is to find a man with proper manners. Most the guys I have dated have all been out to... well. She managed to squirm free just as his lips were closing in on hers.“I’m going to the living room,” she announced, gathering books and a notebook.“Why? You feel safer in a public place?”She gave him a funny look before standing by the door.“What? You don’t trust me in your room?”“Not anymore,” she said, waiting.“Afraid I’ll read your diary again?”“Out.”“All that stuff about sex and how you wish two guys would—”“Out!” she said quickly.“Or that daddy stuff?”“You’re this close to being stabbed, I. Since very few girls your age need breastforms, maybe a little help there too." She leaned forward and looked me right in the eye. "I take an aerobics class every day at eight in the morning. You can join me. I'm sure they can get you down to a more proper weight for a young lady your age. I also have a friend that can help in your grace and poise. As for the rest, you would certainly have to agree to that in person." "This aerobics class, do I go as Clarice or Tim?" "That's up to you dear, but. She hadn't counted her own orgasms, but she knew it was about the same number. She was still exhausted. Her body ached, especially her breast which Brandi had nearly gnawed off while thigh-fucking her, and her pussy, from the crunching rape of the same thigh. She tried not to think about it, but had no luck. Just the memory of Brandi's hard, massive, silky thigh between hers, relentlessly mashing and crushing her pussy into rapturous spasms of nearly unbearable ecstacy, made her shiver.