I rubbed my hand casually over my body, thinking of his touch. With every pull and tug on my nipple, I thought of his mouth at my breasts, suckling a...d lapping at them. I made a few passes at my pussy. It was hot and not just a little wet. My finger softly stroked around my clit, moving the plump flesh that encased my hot, wet hole. I thought of how it felt when he felt between my legs, spreading me open, my heavy thighs quivering, waiting for his touch. I slowly spread the puffy lips for. “Up the shit.”“Why, what’s going on?”“Missed the bloody train.”The music stopped in the background.“Bloody hell,” Marcus said“I won’t be home until after ten.”“That sucks.”“Tell me about it,” Sharon leant forward in a despondent slouch. “And it’s as windy as all fuck and pissing down rain.”“Is there anywhere to go for an hour?”Sharon looked back down the street. “There’s a pub just down the road.”“What’s it called?”“The Railway Hotel,” Sharon said.“Go and have a beer,” Marcus laughed, “Maybe. What did the youngsters call them? Selfies? Perhaps she was taking pictures for her boyfriend. If so, he was a very lucky young man. He watched intently as she put the ‘phone down on the table and glanced around anxiously. She looked ready to bolt at the slightest noise, like a young deer grazing out in the open, wary of predators. He felt his cock stirring into life as he watched her hook her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. He slipped further behind the tree as her head swivelled in. He changed clothes and slipped out a side entry to the Albany Hotel, took public transport to the Abrams & Sons site and soon drove away with the lorry. He drove down to the wharves, looking for a “space for let” sign in the warehouse district, near Maydon Wharf Street – the street that ran along the primary docking facility in Durban’s busy port.Sometime in the next 48 – 72 hours, the Star of Kish would dock, unload a boring consignment of primarily medical kit and a single container housing a.