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Her obsession with being spied on turns interesting.

"Because I know Taylor, and he don't force anybody to do anything. Maybe you were so drunk you just didn't realize what was happening."

His palm brushed against the side of Cathy's breast again, and she twisted despite herself. "God, I know what happened. Anyway, it was undone enough for him to see my bra," she said.

"So about this low?" Truck asked, and reached up and pulled the zipper of her top down till it was undone to just above her belly button. Truck's fingers stayed on the zipper tab; Cathy stared down at his hand and then said in a thick voice, 'Yeah, about that far, I guess."

"Did you have the same type of bra on?" Truck asked.

"No, this one is satin," Cathy said softly. The bra was blue, and still a half cut bra. It pushed her already big tits out, and her stubby nipples were right at the edge of the cups. "It was cut about the same. The other one was silk."

"And this one is satin?" Truck asked, casually brushing aside the jacket so that her right breast was completely exposed.

"Yeah, it's really soft," Cathy said.

"Do you mind if I feel it?" Truck asked.

Kathy did not know later what she was thinking; she just said yes, and then Trucks fingers were grazing the front of her bra. "That is soft," Truck said, and then he was rubbing the satin harder.

Cathy blew out a deep breath as the young man began rolling and squeezing her big, almost cantaloupe sized breast around on her chest. She was barely aware of when his other hand finished unzipping the top so he could push it out of the way. "Umm, I think that's enough, Truck," she finally said. She was leaning back against Reg now, and she was trying to ignore the fact that he was helping her roll her hips so his cock moved tighter and tighter against her asscheeks.

"Is this how Taylor was taking advantage of you?" Truck asked, squeezing her big, firm tits harder.

"Unnnn, uhnhbnn, no, truck, don't do that!" Cathy wailed, and then nodded. Her hands were still locked on Reg's wrists. She shifted slightly, and then somehow broke out from between the two men.

She looked at them, and then she looked at truck. "He put me up on the desk, and then he . . . I don't even like to think about it!" Cathy said. She clutched her shirt closed, but did not think to zip it back up. Her head was spinning, and she gasped when Reg suddenly picked her up, swung her around and set her on the small cutting table.

"Did he feel your legs up?" whispered Reg, and slipped his hand to the inside of her knee. He leaned forward, and allowed his lips to brush her throat again. He whispered again against her throat, "Did he feel your legs up?"

"Yes," Cathy said softly.

"Is that how you were sitting?" truck asked.

Cathy shook her head no; her legs were pressed tightly together, and she was still clutching her shirt closed.

"Sit how you were sitting then, Cathy," Truck said. He smiled at the beautiful bitch. Her head was actually leaning to one side now, so that Reg's mouth could kiss and lick and suck at her throat.

"I . . . I don't think I want to do that," Cathy said softly, looking away from Trucks cold eyes.

But his gaze was hypnotic; his flat black eyes held hers, and his voice seemed to make sense for some reason: "Cathy, come on, were just trying to find out what happened. Maybe you remembered things wrong for some reason. Now, think up till now - did you scream or try to hit him or try to run away? Maybe sitting like you were then will help you remember," Truck's voice like honey, floating through the air.

Cathy knew she was high, but what he said made a kind of twisted sense. "I told him to stop," she pouted. Her lips were painted a glistening pink, her face bespoke of breeding and quality, and her body . . . her body was heaven itself.

Truck stared at her, and she slowly moved her arms away from her chest; she left the shirt closed, but not zipped. She stared at Truck as she put her slim arms behind her and leaned back on her hands.

The shifting of her body caused her legs to part just a bit, and Reg's big, hot hand

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