She wore a white collar.Twelve was another study in contrasts. Barely average in height and, well, plump, she too had dark hair, but a dark complexion...to go with it. She had a worn down, despondent air about her. She was Martina Rossetti, wife of yet another businessman, and thirty-eight years old.The Major had been reading the information sent ahead of the new trainees from the hospital. Perhaps more correctly, he'd been reading between the lines. When the two women arrived, he gave them the. My drive burning like a fire desperate to be quenched. He stroked my clit with the side of his hand and slid it back towards my knee, "My, you are worked up, aren't you?" Just a bit," I said, pulling my breasts free through the top of my lowcut dress.His hand idly found my left nipple as he continued making his way towards the interstate. Even that subtle touch sent an electric charge straight to my loins. I played with my right breast and teased my clit while I impatiently waited for the. More

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