Lisa's shape moved behind the frosted glass of her door but it didn't open. I knew I was in trouble when I found my hand involuntary stroking Lisa's bike seat, stroking the fabric that had been against her sweet arse. I was being ridiculous, I knew that, but I still carried on stroking it.Two o'clock arrived, the door opened, she had deliberately left me waiting. A cheery smile greeted me as we both set off; me, of course behind her, studying her curvy arse cheeks, looking for those panty lines. The weather was mild with little wind as we made our way down the long straight riverside cycle path. I watched every time Lisa reached for her water bottle.She seemed to be going for it today, no stops and a fair pace as we cycled passed the benches overlooking the river. Non-stop, we continued until we reached the pub. With anticipation running through my mind at what Lisa was going to say, she sat down at the table outside. I went straight in and ordered the drinks before returning to sit. Her face expectant, eyes bright as diamonds, even this original type of coloured printing unable to supress the urgent expectation of her willing desires.Another page, four prints each more savage than the last, cuts appearing on her breasts, in the first, her head thrown back screaming either in pain or extasy, who knows, as the leather bit. The next her belly with the same savage marks, then her legs, the last, cuts to her inner legs and the last on the next page, obviously, Oliver`s expert camerawork, as an A4 of the leather striking in close up between her labia was a perfectly timed picture of the leather hitting home, that said everything and you could feel her orgasmic screams in imagination without ever seeing the rest of her body or features. The last pictures in the series were of her wounds, taken in the kitchen, and of her, obviously taken by timer, her damaged body d****d as if in thanks round her two attackers, smiling! He looked at her in awe, not able to understand.
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