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“Drink? My Dad has some Scotch,” Michelle said. “Please, with some ice.”I heard him, though couldn’t see from our hiding place. “There,”...Michelle said, sitting with her Alco pop on the sofa, drinking it through a straw. She let her skirt go north. Tris’s eyes were glued to the white patch between her legs, her panties. He could see the slit of her pussy, a little patch of pubic hair above her young cunt. He imagined how it would taste, feel.“Mr Thomas, are you looking up my skirt?” Michelle. But I think you will still find me clean and fresh.’ Francine didn’t wait for his reply. Still holding her skirt hem, she laid back into the chair’s headrest and closed her eyes. She waited. Sensing no movement from the stunned driver, Francine, with eyes closed, spoke calmly to the ceiling from her relaxed position. ‘Do you want to drive my car, Slick? Better get to it, less than an hour…and the clock’s ticking…’ She heard him shift, his sunglasses clattered on her desk. She felt his head. More

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