Her hands wandered over her breast and made their way to the edge of Sasha’s skirt. She nervously played with the seam for a while as they continued...making out. The women finally came up for air and leaned back against the car doors. Their minds filled with adulterated thoughts of taking this situation to another level. The windows were fogged and the heavy panting was louder than the alternative music that blared through the car speakers. They continued to glare at each other and with one. She then guides my right hand towards her left breast. As I realize where my right hand is going, I am struggling to resist and pulling back."What... what are you doing?!" I ask in a frantic panic."I'm giving you permission. It's OK." Why are you making me do this?" Fred, you have my permission. You can touch me there." No... This--this isn't right. Why?"I pull away and free my right hand from her grip."Fred, what's wrong with you? I'm giving you permission to touch me." But why?", I ask with a. More

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