”“OK, go on,” he said stroking her slim waist.“An old man with steel rimmed spectacles and very dusty clothes sat by the side of the road,” ...he read from the book. “There was a pontoon bridge across the river and carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it. The mule-drawn carts staggered up the steep bank from the bridge with soldiers helping push against the spokes of the wheels. The trucks ground up and away heading out of it all and the peasants plodded along in the ankle. I turned her gently so that she was standing with the front of her thighs pressed against the side of the hood, both palms face-down on the cold metal. I stood behind her and ran my hands down her back, over the soft curves of her body. No talking, now. My hands travelled slowly, gently, soaking in her warmth through the fabric. Over her ribs, the soft flesh over her kidneys…down lower, over the small of her back…till I was stroking her ass through the sheer, short skirt. When I began to pull. More

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