The man had a thirty-two Colt revolver in his hip pocket. Harley handed it to a dumbfounded Ida Marie, still frozen in her tracks. "Here, Hon, you mig...t want to learn how to shoot this.He bent over and extracted a wallet from the other hip pocket. It contained a badge with "Santa Fe" was stamped across the face. "Jesus Christ, ever' dam' fool with no brains an' a big mouth got a badge." he mumbled to himself. He found another sheaf of bills, mostly hundreds in the wallet. Harley handed the. . . Your fingers find his zipper and quickly yank it down. His leg stops rubbing against your thigh; it’s like he’s frozen. Your fingers dig inside his shorts and grab his hot cock, tugging on it, trying to pull it free of the bunched-up material. It pops out and you can travel the length, your fingers circle around its girth. It's pulsing in your hand, his motion still stopped, frozen in place. He has to be wondering what the hell you are up to. As your friend orders her food, you stroke his. More

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