Turns out they were just the thing to drop some napalm or what they called 'whiskey peter" (white phosphorus) on whoever we called the Viet Cong that ...eek. It sure didn't make any difference from the sky at 300 mph. Whatever was down there, Silkie, we fucking cooked it. I'm a fucking murderer, a war criminal, no different from those Wehrmacht guys. They did all the dirty work, but they weren't even important enough to be Nazis...........I didn't fly the planes, Silkie, I drove a little truck. I was a full C cup and filled out my bra quite nicely. I did well sans bra, too, as they were quite perky. I wasn't afraid to show them off, but the stakes weren't right.“If you're going to make a rule that I would have to take my shirt off, I have no interest in seeing any of you shirtless in return. How about you make a rule that you guys would have to take your pants off? Unless, of course, you're afraid that I might see your dick.”“Oh, I'm not afraid. I'll whip it out right now,” ...and he. I couldn't take the half billion dollars or so that was in the bank without alerting Melody, and she would raise an inquisition to find out what happened. And if, or when, Melody disappeared or died, the money would have to be disappeared quickly, before it went to the Aryan Nation or somewhere equally horrendous. The shutdown on transfers would happen as soon as word got out. She was the sole depositor and communicated with them directly and daily. So Melody couldn't be allowed die of natural. Quickly this seemingly respectable woman had both our zippers down and after extracting our cocks, commenced stroking them."Pull over Rod!" I insisted. "We don't want to crash, besides I think your big sister needs a good fucking." After quickly pulling over, almost putting us in a ditch in his rush, Rod, after grabbing a blanket from behind his seat, jumped out on the road, his big cock flapping happily. After stepping down from the cab, I turned and lifted the bemused librarian from the truck.