If her rapist noticed he didn’t show it. She turned left and started up the passage. Sex well dressed, well groomed they fluttered like colourful butterflies along the city pavements. She tried to relax her cunt tube and ease the stretching. She succeeded to some extent, but even so she was certain that she must be providing her violator with an intensity of sensation that could not fail to bring him to climax soon. It was black, black shapes loomed out of the gloom at her, ventilation ducts, fan housings and fume pipes. The delicate panty fabric ripped, exposing her cunt to the night air. The platform was almost deserted, she made for the exit and the stairs. It tore slightly and she sobbed with the shock of his stinging withdrawal. She broke through into the coldness of the night. In the distance the lights of Crystal Palace transmitter winked back at her. In the shadow of that mast she knew was the churchyard where he had left her, where he still lay. There were closed doorways, the scent of cannabis wreathing around them.
