Victim's reparations

"Hey, stop!" Tara cried out, considering chasing after him.

"You were just complaining about him, now you want him to stop?" the bus driver laughed at her. "I guess what you're saying is you wanna get **** then, huh?"

Tara shot him a dirty look, then sighed in defeat about her lost property. "You don't understand," she pouted.

Then the bus driver said something unexpected. "Go in there for help," he suggested, pointing at a squat brick building with a metal door and no windows. "Just tell them you're a victim, and you'll get what you're looking for inside a booth." Tara eagerly agreed and had soon stepped off the bus and let herself into the door as the bus driver watched and shook his head. "Dumb bitch."

Tara had already head down a dimly lit corridor and was stepping into a small booth before she had given any thought to what she was doing. She didn't immediately see her purse, so she wondered if this was somewhere she could make a report or complaint. She could see a hole in the wall a few feet above the floor, and when she bent over at the waist (giving the hidden camera an excellent vantage down her low-cut vest) she could see something moving around on the other side of the hole and thought she heard a male voice say something about "white girl".

Then she remembered what the bus driver said. "Yes I'm a white girl," she volunteered. "I'm Tara McNeill and I'm a victim... of black-on-white crime, I guess my daddy would say," she added, not really sure why.

And that's when the young redhead got the surprise of her life when a long semi-erect black penis emerged out of the hole fast enough to bump Tara right in her freckled nose, causing her to instinctively recoil from the first real dick she'd ever seen.