The following story happened a few months back , I was in America for work and had been there for quite some time and my hormones were getting the bet...er of me and regular masturbation was not helping much. This was time I was close to a friend named mark. Now Mark was married the 3rd time and his wife, Casey, was a chick anybody would die for. She had beautiful curves, blue eyes and blonde hair and the way she would sway her hips I would always imagine how good it would be to bury myself in. ‘How does he know?’“You find my diary or something?” I asked, barely above a whisper, defiance still somehow in me.“Oh, honey,” he said, slipping a hand inside my dressing gown and palming my tit. “That would be the easy answer.”He rolled and pinched the nipple, and my knees almost buckled beneath me. I let out a breathy moan and closed my eyes, but as quickly as he started, he stopped, withdrawing his hand from where my dressing gown had fallen open.I peeled my eyes open and saw Asher standing. I had a feeling I’d wind up comparing Bradford to the major all night. At least I’d be horny, I thought, staring at my breasts and the obviously erect nipples topping them. Even though it was much too warm for it, I shrugged into the coat and went downstairs to wait for Bradford. I made an effort, I honestly did, not to see the major everywhere I went. The preoccupation I was developing for the man was really starting to drive me crazy. At first I thought I’d seen him in the parking lot, then. There was a stretch back in the late 1970s when we lived in Ponders End a part of zen field in North London in a spooky old house and I was fortunate enough to be assigned to a recycling plant a fifteen minute walk away in Brimsdown not far from the old Enfield Rifle and Munitions factory that once flourished there. I workedvdaynshifts there, but occasionally when they couldn,t get weekend part time guards to cover I volunteered to do either a Saturday or Sunday and now and then a night shift..