As she promptly wiped it up, Brittany made eye contact."You can't tell me you like Pat, he's a jock! They're pompous bastards! You can do so much bett...r!" Brittany yelled at her. A meek, "you don't understand" was all Teresa could mutter as she turned around and got into her car. She left a fine mark of rubber on the pavement as she squalled her tires leaving.Teresa couldn't believe it. A couple of weeks? It wasn't a couple of weeks since she was at his house getting finger banged by him, Pat,. Cargill said, “Boys, I want you to meet my wife. She’ll be videotaping our fun today.” Wait, what? His wife not only knows but participates? Mind = blown. In the corner was a tripod and video camera, behind which stood Mrs. Cargill. To be fair, she was as average as a woman can be. Probably late twenties, or early thirties with a figure that was neither curvy nor slim. Just average. She wore jeans and a cotton t-shirt that framed her smallish breasts nicely. The nipples poked out, betraying. More

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