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’ The detective declined to move. He refused to look at Fletcher. He turned to his colleagues, ‘All of you get in the car.’ Fletcher tried to hold him, ‘You can’t do this.’ The man backed away, as he started for his car he spoke, ‘You’re in way over your head. I suggest that you forget you ever saw this place. Forget about anyone you ever knew who went in there. This place doesn’t exist, and anyone you think you know who might have ever gone in there no longer exists.’ Fletcher was disbelieving, ‘You can’t mean that.’ The detective, a leader in one of the nation’s top private firms only shook his head, ‘Get out of here. Get out while you still can.’ He climbed in his car, backed it up, turned it around and drove off. Sorrel screamed all the way into the lab room. She yelled. She hollered. She cursed. She cried. She made as much noise as she possibly could. She was determined they weren’t going to cut her up, Not her! She’d fight. She’d fight them! She’d fight with every ounce of. Ok, no touching. Also you should not take your prick out and start shaking, which I know you are doing every night. I agreed immediately; because I can at least see her tits fully. She was then fully dressed with her sari and blouse. She got up from the bed, and slowly removed her sari. She told me to sit on the chair and watch. In her petticoat and blouse (there was nothing inside her see through light blue blouse), she stood in front of the mirror and started to comb her hair. I was enjoying the sight of her huge blouse-clad tits. I could clearly see the contrast of her white globes and the black areolas and nipples. This show was also exciting her and her nipples were clearly hard and thrusting against the thin blouse material. It was getting hot and spicy. She slowly removed the hooks of her blouse. First the top three hooks. Released partly, her big and heavy tits that were pressed together came out looking even bigger. After what seemed an eternity, she removed the other hooks.
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