Licking my swollen lips, I opened my eyes and smiled with relief. The first thing I saw was the mirror over the bed. It was definitely not a dream. The mirror was marvelous. It had proven to be quite the accessory last night as I watched Jackson mount me, his sculpted ass flexing gracefully with every stroke. His ass was like a damned artist, all on it's own. The muscles moved like a perfectly choreographed ballet. My ass wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything like his. But since I had the distinct pleasure of watching it dance, the brilliantly mounted mirror above his bed provided me with the best view in town and I didn't mind one bit. Who needed the ballet when you had Jackson, the president of the local motorcycle club, The Outlaws, sinking his cock into you over and over at the same time that his vice president watches from the sidelines to teach you a lesson? Not this woman. At first I was afraid. Shaking in my boots, about-to-pee-my-pants terrified! But last night, when I woke up tied to Jackson's bed after he found me spying outside his window in his most private of moments and seeing the look on his face as his emotions drifted from anger to lust, not to mention the growing package between his muscular thighs, well - my fear disappeared. And then I was hungry. Once I realized I was safe, and they weren't going to chop me up into a million pieces or brand me by tattooing their logo on my ass, the only thing left to do was enjoy myself. I took everything they had to give me throughout the whole night, and it wasn't only the lips on my face that were pleasantly bruised and swollen this morning.
