He figured that was just the sort of thing Angie deserved – and would probably really go for. He'd heard broads as raunchy as this one just loved to be pushed around. Well, he could handle it. She'd taken enough shots at his ego this evening to make him want to get some of his own back… with maybe a little extra for good measure.

Angie felt hurt and frustrated inside. Why didn't she ever come across anyone who enjoyed good imaginative sex the way she did? They were either Don Juans or sadists. There was no happy medium.

Jeez, I don't want to see another man for a month, she thought desperately. But the nagging itch in her cunt told her differently.

At last Angie began to realize that they were passing through her neighborhood. Did this bastard still think she was going home with him after all that? Not Goddamn likely!

"Take me home, Dave," she commanded. "You missed my turnoff back there."

Dave's erotic thoughts had mellowed his earlier anger. "What the hell, Angie. Can't we be friends? It was a misunderstanding, and I know you feel bad 'cause you didn't get to come, but I guarantee I'll make it up to you ten times over." He leered invitingly in her direction.

"Forget it," Angie replied in a voice that was firm and hard. "I like men, not boys, so we've obviously got nothing in common. I want to go home."

His anger reignited, Dave brought the big Cadillac to a screeching halt. "I've got a good mind to fuck your ass off right here! Might teach you something about manners, bitch!"

"Manners are only important to people who haven't got the guts to act the way they feel. And as to teaching me a lesson about anything, you ought to know the sheriff's department patrols this route regularly. Aren't you afraid they'd catch you at it and see your cock?"