Abigail’s face was pushed up against the rough brick wall and she sighed and hoped that her clothes wouldn’t get too dirty in the ensuing activities. She was wearing a short dress that barely hugged her ass and it really was one of her favourites: some men could get rough in their need to pull out her breasts, and she had already mended it twice before.

Riiiiiip. The front of her dress was torn open by hungry hands and she felt her breasts flop free and loose, only to be grabbed and squeezed hard. Ah. She would have to mend it a third time, now.

The dress was pulled up (not that it had to go up very far) and her bare backside was exposed to the man, or men, behind her.

“Go easy on—” she began, but the men were already penetrating her, plunging deep inside her pussy. There was no point in asking. They wouldn’t listen.

She patiently waited while the men had their way with her, wondering just when she would find the time to mend her pretty dress. Would she be able to do it tonight? No, she had that dinner engagement…

A wet feeling seeped inside her and the pressure deep inside her abated. Then something prodded into her asshole, and she realised that she still had a little ways to go before she could get back to her apartment. She used her exercises to tense her asshole in an effort to get the man to finish faster, but it ended up being close to twenty minutes before that wet feeling entered her asshole as well.

She felt the hands leave her tits and turned to see a pair of men walking away back toward the street. The alleyway was quiet now, but for the sound of the wind far above the rooftops. Abigail straightened her dress and had to hold the neckline together to cover herself. She was dripping, and there was already a wet patch where she pulled her skirt down.

Oh well. At least he had been quick.