Is the same for you?” “No… yes!” “No… yes? What you mean, Ben? Is the thought of me in nothing making you happy?” “No!” “No? Then ...hy are you not mending my drawer? Do you have a hard-on, Ben? Is okay, you can tell Martina. It can be our fantasy.” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This wasn’t in his repertoire. “Oh fuck, Martina.” “Do you like to see my breasts, Ben?” “Ummm…” “If you mend my drawer, maybe I’ll show you them. I think you like.” Ben’s mind was turning to mush as he. Nope- a 4 year old Volkswagen diesel Jetta is hardly a "babe magnet". Perhaps it was my living conditions, like a huge mansion on the beach with a yacht?-Guess again. I lived in the same stately old home my grandparents had brought me up in and left me after their death. The house was a nice place in a solid middle class neighborhood, but nothing to catch the eye of a lady this fine. No doubt then the draw was my jet setting life style combined with massive wealth-that must be it? Wrong-As a 27. Inside that smaller box is another box surrounded by more stuff. Inside that box is another box because the inner box is quite old. Inside that old box is some stuff and a small cedar box carefully wrapped in plastic and sealed with at least thirty feet of masking tape. I gingerly picked up the cedar box as old memories came flooding back. Most of the masking tape had long since dried out so opening it proved easy. Opening the lid revealed a set of car keys to a 1956 Packard Patrician sedan. I sank my cock in, listening to her sigh in pleasure as I did this. I began pumping her. Her legs wrapped around me and I felt her heels digging into my back as I fucked her. She was moaning and I was grunting. “Fuck, Lindsey,” I said, grabbing her hips and pumping her faster. “No,” she said. “Stop.” I did as she said, slowing down my movements. She pulled my head down for a kiss and then made me roll over. I looked up at her as she began to ride my hard cock. “Yes!” I said, reaching up and.