I thought his voice sounded familiar, but I was too scared to try and think of how I knew him. I struggled against his hand that closed over my delicate waist."Damn it Charity. Hold still." He rasped in my ear. I did know him, or he at least knew me. I was frightened as he forced me to walk the dark hallway towards my bedroom. We got to the bedroom and he pushed me into the room. He grabbed one of my silk scarfs and blindfolded me with it. I could faintly see out of it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that. I felt his fingers brush my neck and slide down my body. His warm lips touched my neck in a tender kiss. I moaned as his hand kneaded my breast through my dress. "Your skin taste so sweet." He whispered hotly into my ear. His hand traveled down my front and slipped under my dress to the part in my legs. His finger slipped in between my folds into a warm and wet honey pot. "Mmm so wet and already for me." He said adding another finger to the first. He finger fucked me. Marco told me after breakfast that the lecture stage in his classroom collapsed as he and two of his students stood on it. Luckily, besides a couple bumps and bruises, no one was seriously injured.“I asked the school, three times, to fix it,” Marco seethed, glancing up angrily at the creamy gray sky as we were walking down a tree-lined promenade, on the way to give our classes. Even under the penumbra of sagging clouds, I could see that the lines on Marco’s face were growing deeper, especially the crinkles on his forehead. The dude had seemed to age five years in only the short time we’d been there.Another of our colleagues was with us, Rick, a late middle-aged Clevelander with leathery skin, platinum blond hair and piercing blue eyes.We called Rick “Rooster” because of the spiky shock of hair he had running along his scalp, which, along with his pointy, chinless face, sort of made him look like a chicken.As Rooster was walking with us, he lamented that “furniture, equipment was.
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