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"Oh my." She said softly as she looked into the small bathroom.Samantha sat on the seat, her pink panties down around her ankles. Her head was arched back and her eyes were tightly closed. What had so surprised Barbara was that the young lady had three fingers buried in her pussy and was furiously masturbating."Excuse me," Barbara said as she began to close the door.Samantha eyes popped open and her skin flushed a bright red."Oh shit!" She exclaimed. "I'm so embarrassed."Seeing one of the passengers in the rear seats sit up in response to the curse, Barbara reopened the door and stepped inside. The last thing Sam needed right now was a public display."Well I guess that's one way to take your mind off flying." Barbara said with a grin, trying to make light of the incident."I really hadn't intended to do this." Sam said. "I just started to stroke myself and it felt so nice. Pretty soon I forgot I was on a plane." Then by all means, continue." Barbara said as she again turned to. She had more clothes than he’s seen in the women’s section of a department store. Obviously, for her to afford this or rather for her father to afford to spoil her, they were rich. He remembered being surprised by the car she drove. Seemingly with her wanting for nothing and with her driving a brand new 1975, generation II Mustang, she was rich. He remembered never liking the second generation Mustang but the car she drove was hot. It was a black, anemic Cobra with gold graphics. It was pretty car but with only a 130 horsepower, 302 engine, it was no supercar. Instead of her room being messy, cluttered, and disorganized, in the way that his bedroom always was, her bedroom was tidy, neat, and organized with everything in its place. Perhaps they had a housekeeper. Perhaps, judging her by her deep, dark tan, she lived on the beach and was never home to mess up her room. For sure, if he lived this close to the beach, he’d be at the beach every day until it was too cold to go. Even in.
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I was floating in front of him; held in place as he gripped each of my biceps. He looked down at my hands clutching his shirt; he was not pleased. He looked up and glared at me, and then lowered his gaze to my clenched fists, and then lower still to my heaving breasts, now exposed since my arms were pinned to my sides, they were being pushed upward and out of my low cut dress. Our eyes met again but his chiseled face had softened. He was inclined to offer me a deal. He lowered me to floor, my toes touching first and then my heels. He pushed down on my shoulders and I began to squat. My dress was too tight around my knees to part them on either side of his legs, so I hiked it up around my waist as he continued to push me downward. I wasn’t wearing any underwear, not even a thong, since the lines would have shown through my dress, vanity is a curse. He guided my hand up to his zipper. His offer made, it was my decision to accept it or be tossed into the alley. I reached up and fished.

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