They made their way in and he sat her at what appeared to be the only available chair in the bar. “My name is Ian, by the way, and what can I get yo... to drink while I am trying to find you an ice pack?” He asked. “I’m Fran and beer would go down a treat in this heat.” She answered. “Do I detect an Australian accent?” “No getting away from it,” she told him. “And you, your British one either.” He laughed and head off to the bar. After some minutes, he returned to the table with two beers and a. Brunette and carrying a little extra weight but nothing that looked bad. She had cracking tits, easily as good as her Mum's and she know how to dress well. There was a touch of class about how she dressed. In the end we split. She was angry. She was also depressed and needy and I didn't get how to support her. I'd been there when her father died and this was a big thing for her. I was working in Winchester as an Estate Agent and i was good at it. It was 2007 and the market was buoyant. I was. Shit! Fuck! That tounge works magic!”“You like that, boss? You like getting your ass ate like it’s a fucking dessert?” You shove it back in and go even faster.“Ughhhhh. That feels sooooooo goooooood!” She moans. You grab her ass with both hands and jiggle it. This makes her even more satisfied. You’ve been leaving your dick out of the fun for so long that you get up and rest it on her ass.“ You ready, Cathy? I’m gonna make you moan so hard that you’ll feel like a pornstar.”“Make me, daddy!” She. I will admit, I spent the first few months of my tour in GCA (basically radars and shit, guiding aircraft with a precision approach radar, or PAR), which was only open from 08 to midnight— and was frightfully boring.The chairs were remarkably comfortable, and thus, unnecessarily easy to fall asleep in. Goodness if the Big Sarge ever caught us sleeping, the earful we'd get… and probably a counseling statement if not a recommendation for Article 15 (nonjudicial punishment, basically meaning they.