Desi Actress Subashri In Swimsuit – FSIBlog.com

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I wish I could say the same for our love life. Oh, we still dated, and we still had sex, though not quite as often as we had been.Some of the passion seemed to be missing, and to be honest, it was my fault. I was holding back, fearful of committing myself fully, not knowing what deep dark secret Marge was holding onto so tightly. As much as I couldn’t believe that it could be all that bad, SHE obviously did, and it sent shivers through me.Finally, the big day arrived, and it was perfect. Just enough clouds to keep the sun from beating down on us, cool but not chilly. Marge and I got our numbers, did our stretches and a few short jogs to loosen up.We took our places in the mass of runners, and jogged in place nervously, waiting for the race to start. The big clock at the starting line counted down, the gun fired, and we were off! It took a couple of minutes for the starting throng to sort itself out and we could settle into our pace. I immediately tried to make up for the time lost at. I struggled against my bonds and a huge hand clamped a rag down on my face. I was once again knocked out by some drug or other.When I came to I was back in my cage and my throat hurt a lot. I reached up to find it bandaged. Sandra stepped into view."Go on Foxy, laugh!" she said with a grin.I tried to speak but no noise came out of my mouth. I tried again, I tried to make any sort of noise and found I couldn't."Hahaha, isn't that better Foxy? No more annoying vocal chords to disturb my peace and quiet," she cackled. She left me there to contemplate this latest horror.I wanted to shout and scream but I now couldn't. Instead I screamed and shouted internally, bashing against my cage.When I finally wore myself out and I was on the edge of sleep I could have sworn I heard a voice saying "Good, it's quiet now."The next day was another long boring day in the dark with an evening of torture. It seemed now I couldn't scream any more that Sandra didn't seem to be enjoying hurting me so much..
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I think that's what kept them at bay, they were scared I was jail bait, one touch and they could be away for a long stretch, not that I would say anything to anyone, no, it was the other women who were there with their own c***dren, tut-tutting always watching and reporting.There was one old guy, there was something about him I connected with, he did look as if he might not be back, sitting coughing and wheezing, but he came, regular as clockwork and he was always happy to see me, it was as if it was me he came to see, we had that connection, it was as if he knew why I was in the park and on the swings, he knew and sensed my urges and when I opened my thighs as the swing soared towards his view, if the women were not looking at us, I let him see me as my reward to him and I hoped when he touched himself at night, he thought about me and only me, we connected like that, long before the internet made it easier, how I wanted to sit on his face and let him drink my youthful nectar, fresh.

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