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From: zifferman@aol.com (Zifferman)
Subject: burglar 1
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Michelle parked her smart red Porsche in the long, curved driveway of her large
home.  Her matching red high heels clicked on the stone steps leading to the
front door.  Robert watched her from the den and, after two years of marriage,
still couldn't help thinking what a lucky man he was to have caught her fancy. 
He admired the way her frequent trips to the private health club kept her trim
24-year old body in fantastic shape.  Even now, as she skipped up the steps, he
could see her lithe, athletic legs flexing in her hose.  She wore a
conservative gray business suit that scarcely hid her large, pendulous breasts.
 They tested the material of her thin blouse and jacket and bobbed perceptibly
as she pranced into the foyer of the house.
Seeing Robert watch her, Michelle smiles self-consciously.  In spite of her
beauty she was humble and modest, as modest as her voluptuous body would allow
her to be.  She shook her long blond hair free from it's bun and he watched the
light wavy locks cascade down her shoulders and frame the spread of her bosomed
jacket.
"How was your day, dear", Robert asked, sipping his cocktail and offering a
glass to Michelle.
"Oh, horrid.  I think I nailed that Levy account, though.  Mr. Peters actually
told me I had done a good job with it.  Imagine that!"  He laughter was angels
at play.
Noting that she carried her gym bag, Robert asked, "Stop by the gym today?"
She paused for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words.  
"Yes.  I stopped by during my lunch hour.  Why do you ask?' she added
suspiciously.
"Nothing.  I'm glad you got a chance to visit the club.  I know how much you
enjoy your work outs."
She seemed to relax with that.  
Michelle removed her jacket and laid it across a chair in the foyer.  The
outline of her breasts were clearly visible through the sheer material of her
white blouse, and her large, perpetually hard nipples tented the tips, In spite
of the bra she wore.  She stretched luxuriously.
"Don't either of you move!"
The sound of the deep masculine voice caused both Michelle and Robert to spin
their heads towards the kitchen door.  There, holding a revolver leveled at the
two, was a large black man dressed in black sweat pants and a black turtle
neck.  He wore a black watch cap and leather gloves.
"Don't make any noise.  I just want your jewelry and valuables.  If you
cooperate neither of you will get hurt," he growled.
"Oh my God", Michelle said meekly, holding her hand at her throat.
Robert said, "Take what you want.  Just don't harm us!"
"Move into this kitchen!" the burglar demanded.
Michelle and Robert entered the kitchen.  The black man ordered them to sit at
the breakfast table.  Robert could smell the burglar's sweat.
"I'll have that broach, lady", he said, waving the barrel of his gun at the
expensive bobble at Michelle's neck.
"No.  My husband gave it to me on the day we were engaged!"
Without hesitation the burglar grabbed the broach and ripped it from her
blouse.  His action pooped the buttons on the top of her shirt and it spread to
reveal her deep cleavage.  Her alarmed breathing seemed to make her tits grow,
threatening to burst the catch on her bra.
"Now, those look pretty good, too" the burglar commented, licking his lips.  He
slowly traced a line from Michelle's neck to her cleavage with the tip of his
gun barrel.
"Now see here!" Robert rose to his feet.  A blinding flash of intense pain
forced him back to his seat and he realized that the burglar had hit him across
his jaw with the revolver.  Robert could feel a trickle of blood begin to
meander down one corner of his mouth.
"Please, Robert!  Do what he says," Michelle pleaded.
"Yeah, do what I says" the burglar gave an evil grin.
"Now, I'm gonna have you both strip and I'm gonna tie yous in yous chairs. 
That's give me time to get what I want and get outta here.  You strip fust,
white boy."
Shaking with rage and impotent shame, Robert began shedding his casual clothes.
 The black burglar's eyes darted from Robert to Michelle and back. At last
Robert slipped on his expensive silk jockey shorts.
"Shit!  What'cha doing with this hamster dick, lady?" the Negro guffawed. 
Robert looked down and saw that his penis, through fear, had shrunk to just a
button.
"Bastard" Michelle hissed at the burglar.
He silenced her by drawing back his arm as if to strike her.
"Sit in your chair, white boy.  Now, let me help the little lady with her
clothes."
"No!  I won't allow it..." Robert started to rise but the burglar brandished
the gun at him, then placed the muzzle to Michelle's head.  "I'm gonna
ventilate this bitch's head if you don't do as I say, white boy!"
"Please!  Please don't hurt me!" Michelle pleaded, tears coursing down her
cheeks.
Standing behind Michelle the black slipped one hand around to her tit and began
to massage it roughly.  Michelle hung her head in shame and sobbed quietly.  He
then pulled the tails of her blouse from the waist of her skirt and slip it off
her shoulders.  He pulled off one glove with his teeth and reached around to
unsnap her bra.  Michelle's tits feel free and swayed slightly in front of her.
 He resumed his handling of her firm, large tits.
Robert averted his gaze down at the floor, burning with rage.
"Look up, white boy!  Look up or I cap the bitch!"
Robert raised his head and noticed that Michelle was no longer sobbing, She
seemed to be biting her lip to keep silent.  At the same time, Robert saw that
Michelle was, barely perceptibly, grinding her but against the burglars front.
"Whoa!  This is some hot ho'" the black laughed.
He reached down her front to the hem of her short skirt.  His hand disappeared
under her skirt and between her legs.  Suddenly Michelle moaned and her knees
buckled.  She was supported by the black's strong hand on her womanhood. 
Michelle seemed to go limp.  Her head lolled from side to side and her eyes
were shut.  She sucked her breath in between clenched teeth.
The black turned Michelle to face the table then leaned her forward.  Her tits
mashed flat against the table top.  She was chewing on one knuckle.
"Michelle..." Robert said meekly.
"Oh, Robert.  I'm so sorry...." she moaned.
Robert was perplexed.  Michelle never seemed to abandon herself during sex and,
quite frankly, never seemed all that interested in sex in the first place.  Now
she was moaning like a cat in heat with this stranger pawing her private parts.
 Robert could smell her lubricated labia and could hear the increasing wet
sounds on the black's thick fingers working her vulva.
At last the back backed away from Robert's wife.  Robert gasped when he saw the
distinct outline of the burglar' bulging erection through the material of his
sweat pants.  Michelle twitched on the table, her rump rising and falling at if
to some primite music.  
"See this, white boy?  This is prime Alabama mud snake!"


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