I immediately pushed her to the shotgun seat and pulled her shorts down. I stopped everything and just looked at Anwesha for a while.Imagine a hot gir... on the shotgun seat of your car in a sleeveless crop top with one of her boobs popping out of her top, flat well-toned abs, with deep navel and shots pulled down exposing her panties, and well-toned thighs, gasping and moaning. Won’t you go crazy and want to fuck that thing right there?! I wanted to do that too, but we were in the stupid car.But. Then, "Tell me what you want. Tell me you want guys to look at your pussy." She said, "I want guys to look at my pussy". I'd say, "You want lots of guys to look at your pussy." Again, "Yes." I continued, saying, "Then tell me what you want." She'd say, "I want lots of guys to look at my pussy." Then I'd say, "Tell me again what you want." She'd repeat, "I want lots of guys to look at my pussy." After having her repeat that about 3 times, I'd say, "You're going to let guys look at your. One young lady, her now being a police woman we had best call her Sally to save her blushes, allowed me to find out about fingering the damp bits, most of the rest it was a fumble in the bra job, that’s if there was much to fumble! Each day we would wander down to the station at the lines headquarters, a quarter of a mile from the school and take our seats in the waiting train, usually a bunch of older stock, the last coach a driving trailer for the guard, and the loco a diesel, one of two on. He checked the bandages while he murmured words of comfort, and replaced one of them. The blood was slowing down, and he was relieved. He did not have a lot of bandages, or iodine. He got out his whiskey flask, and put it to her lips. She pulled her head away at the taste, but he coaxed a few drops into her mouth. Soon she slept easier, numbed by the bitter alcohol. Pierre settled back on his haunches, and sighed. He felt hope come over him, sensing that she would be all right. He hoped she.