She looks nervous but happy.She speaks with a quiet, slightly squeaky, Scottish accent.“My name is Cindy Jennings, and I’m a 31 year old mother of...two from Dundee in Scotland.”She’s dressed slightly sexily – a tight sweater/cardigan over a sheer knee-length dress that shows off a slim little body. She’s made an effort for the cameras, but she’s trying to look casual as she sits on the couch in the front room of their small terraced house. Neat and tidy but nothing special. Her husband, Gary, is. Bob followed Mum upstairs and helped Mum position the step ladder for the loft. Mum then started to climb the ladder and as he held the ladder, as expected Bob leaned for forward to have a good close look up Mum's skirt while she was in the loft. At the same time Mum leaned forward in the loft and lifted one foot up the next rung of the ladder to give Bob an even better view. Bob took one hand away from the ladder and started to rub his growing cock through his tracksuit bottoms. His bulge. While kissing with the biker, I took off my shoes and kicked them away along with my cargo pants, leaving me wearing nothing but my green Brazilian-cut briefs and my sox.Our lips locked tight. Our tongues twirled inside our welled up mouths. His breath tasted of beer and cigarette. His goatee scratched my freshly shaven face. He smelled like he had not taken a shower in a day or two. His strong hands clasped my ass cheeks forcefully as he pressed our bodies together. My shirtless chest. I wished momentarily that I'd brought a few hand grenades, but I hadn't so wishing wasn't going to do me much good.The two five man squads arrived just as I was settling into my new location. Eight men spread out and began searching the wreckage while two stayed with the pickup trucks they'd driven out in. I got off five rounds, before they figured out where I was and started firing back. Damn flash suppressors never work as well as advertised.I eased down off the top of the mound and circled.