Pretend to give in

"Wait, hold on," I say, "Let's just make this easier for both of us."

I have his attention.

I continue. "You like my titties, right?"

"Yes, they are perfect." He says, gazing up at them.

"Give me my I.D. back, and I'll let you see more of them."

"No, first you let me see them, and then I'll decide."

I sigh. "God, mister, please don't be hard, we can really work this out together."

"Hmmmm..." he says, releasing his hands from my breasts, "How about you just take off your shirt for now, and then we'll decide what happens next."

I have a bra on underneath, so I think it'll be okay.

I slowly lift my shirt over my head and I know I'm giving him a good show. Now his eyes are scrutinizing every little piece of my body.

I'm wearing a pink lacey bra, it's made of thin material, it shows a lot of cleavage, and it's very sexy. I look down constantly to make sure I'm still wearing it, because right now I feel so exposed.

The sick bastard is licking his lips.

"You are so fucking hot."

Now, his hands are all over my body. He's sliding them up and down my sides. I shiver.

"Take off your bra."

"No way. Not until I get my I.D. back."

"You're not getting it back until you allow me to fuck your tits."

WOW, did he just say that??? I can't believe it. Time to leave! Immediately, I stand up.

"You know what," I say, "You're really fucked up. I want my I.D. but there's no way I'm gonna fuck you for it. It's really not worth that much to me."

And he's laughing the whole time I'm saying this. Fucking bastard.

I turn to leave but I realize that I'm without my shirt. Damn, and it's over there by his head. Something within is telling me to just leave without my shirt (How embarrassing!), is that you telling me that, Conscience?