Bernie and Marcos leading in a Vauxhall this time, and we were trailed by a white Transit van that appeared to have little difficulty in keeping up wi...h the fast pace Bernie set, weaving around those country lanes.Again it was a somewhat unnecessarily protracted journey, that I'm sure didn't take us all that far as the crow flies from the hotel.As I had done the day before, I kept my eye on the sun and ascertained that, for a while, we literately went around in circles again. My escort was. "Are you serious?" Hazel said, getting angry now. "I'm old enough to your granny and if you think I'm going to take my clothes off in front of you, you're out of your mind."The tall lad laughed again. "We're not asking you luv, we're telling you, you can either strip off or we'll do it for you."Now Hazel knew she was in real trouble. The charity shop was in a back street and with the weather the way it was there was little chance of anyone else coming in but she tried that as an excuse."What if. I spread out, allowing you to see all of my naked body, wet with water and wanting you. Trembling, so excited and unable to contain my need for you. Your body covered mine, and your hardness presses against me. So badly I want it, need it. I feel your hands all over my breasts. Softly touching my nipples, making me cry out and beg. You pinch them, not hard, but enough to make me writhe underneath you. Your hands go down my body, between my legs. Your fingers start to enter my pussy. Allowing me. I miss hearing from you." He had been remarkably sane for quite some time, not dwelling on her constantly, and he really wondered if something had happened. It took a week for her reply, and it shattered him. "I guess I'm OK. I work, I sleep, sometimes I read a little." That was all there was. No greeting, no closing, no hint of warmth, nothing personal at all. He felt like an annoying stranger, or a pest dismissed. He felt wounded and abandoned. He wrote back, in a tone of deep hurt and black.
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