I turned on the speed control to two miles above the limit and looked over at her. She was grinning as she leaned back against the door, faced toward...me, spread her legs again and lifted her skirt. Then she started playing with her pussy, stroking it along the furrows and pushing her finger against her clit. "What do you think?" she asked, with a giggle in her voice. "I think I like!" I exclaimed. "Play with it! Push your finger in!" She pushed a finger inside herself. She pulled it. It became an obsession, I had to concede.At work, if a corporate looking woman arrived, usually just to visit arelative, before they would announce their intent I would wonder tomyself. 'Is this her? Is she here for me?'But it never was.As the weeks ticked by my rational self realized it was neverhappening. She was never coming back for me. But my emotional selfwould not let go of the ideal. It entered my dreams. I had a visualrepresentation of the woman I imagined she'd be. An. More

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