She probably had it memorized.The foil removed, put neatly into a little trash bag also extracted from her well-stocked handbag, she brought the rubbe... close to her eyes, studied it for a second, turned it over, then delightfully installed it on its intended, rock-hard destination.Then she looked up to my eyes, smiled, and said, "Give me your left hand, darling."It didn't have anything better to do, so I gave it to her.She held my hand with her right hand, rotated mine so its palm was uppermost. In anticipation of what’s to come, a familiar dampness was making its presence known between her legs.At the sound of the outer door opening, she hoped it was him and stepped into the corridor as if she was leaving.It was him.Without saying a word he led her back into the room, pinned her against the wash-hand basin, and locked his lips to hers. He’d been so cocksure of himself he knew he would fuck her someday, another trophy to mark his position in the world. But she had been different, she. He talked with an accent, and liked to make fun of mine. We were total opposites. He wanted to fuck and I didn’t. He liked to brag and I hated his bragging. One day, after we had finished cleaning out our Bradley fighting vehicle, Vegas found me alone in the motor pool. He slipped up behind me as I was bending over checking something on the Bradley and pushed him-self up against my ass, while holding on to my waist.I tried to pull away, but he had a strong grip on me.“Vegas! Let go!” I. My breathing was slightly ragged, as I was on edge. The thrill of what was happening was on me like a coat.After looking at each other for what seemed like a long time, but was only a minute, he slowly raised his hands, put them on the top of my shoulders, pushing down, indicating I was supposed to kneel in front of him! I did. As he looked down at me, he unbuckled his pants and slide them down his legs. He was wearing boxers which had a very large bulge in the front pushing his boxers out.