So, which one can I use to begin ours again? I can’t recall the first time I saw your face, but I recall the most important. The first time I truly ...saw your face, you were smiling, eyes shining like the stars you loved. The night was young, and so were we. It was not so long ago, yet it feels like an eternity. It felt like a beginning all over again, but was it the beginning of the end? The last time I saw that smile on your face was just before the rocks shattered the glass walls we had built. I hung around the side of the stall, awaiting the inevitable, and sure enough, the woman removed her jeans she was wearing, sliding them down her shapely legs, revealing a cute pair of floral underwear. She had an ample mound, full of lush dark pubic hair which was barely constrained in the panties. I moved around a little closer, and the woman seamed oblivious to the fact that she had virtually no privacy at all. Now at a much closer distance, maybe a mere 3 metres away, the lush pubic hair. Lift, twist, STAMP. My foot crashes down on your left. Lift, twist, STAMP, on your right. Lift, twist, STAMP, on your left. Faster and faster, closer and closer until suddenly you feel your left arm crushed under the sole of my shoe! Your little bones turn to powder and it takes a moment for your brain to register what has happened. My foot doesn't lift this time. It stays crushing your arm to the floor while I look down on you with an evil grin. You cry out in pain and give me a pleading look. I was really nervous when I was unloading my bike at the Lowe’s parking lot. I was wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts; real Daisy Dukes that showed off my smooth, firm, toned and tan legs and were short enough that part of my firm little bubble butt was hanging out. I knew that while on the bike they would ride up my hips and really show off my ass. I was really horny but nervous too. I was thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I could get beaten, robbed, my bike stolen, or picked.