Someone Catcalls you

You reach the end of the street, Ceilidh still chatting away amiably, when a voice calls out.

"Hey, pretty boy!" You look up to see a portly, older woman leaning out the window of a second story apartment - a cig between her fingers and her enormous rack leaning on the windowsill.

"Why don't you dump that beanpole and come up here. Let momma suck your little cock 'till sore," she laughs rakishly and jiggles her fat tits invitingly at you.

Ceilidh's grip on your hand is tighter now and her other hand is on you arm. In any other town you'd probably read that as a scared reaction, but here you sense a possessive edge.

"Don't buy that innocent act!" she catcaller continues, ".. she'll have you tied up and ridden before you know it, believe you me, the difference is I know what I'm doing!"

Ceilidh is now tugging quite insistanly on your arm: "let's just go" but your eyes drift up to the window where you see the woman with a bit of trouble pull down her top to flash her creamy tits at you.

"Come on, boy toy!"