Ale
Quivering fingers grasped at the rough wood of the bench. Her cheek was forced against the roughly sawn timber. She could feel the fine splinters grazing her soft skin. The cold mountain air blew up and under her skirts as work worn hands pulled back the woollen material, exposing her white soft thighs to his hungry eyes. The material of her bodice was torn where moments before one of his colleagues had grasped it, ripping it from her full breasts. One nipple had popped out, rosy and pink,...