“Hey do you ladies need any help?” the nice farmer asks. The girls were a little frightened by the man's large stature but they thought he looked ...riendly. “Yes sir, my car seems to be running hot.” Brandy explains. The farmer looks under the hood and fiddles around with a few things. He wipes his brow, scratches his head, and begins to speak. “You girls are in a jam I tell ya.You see it’s Sunday and everything is closed. I can offer you a place to stay for tonight if that’s what ya need. Then. I quickly realized it wasn't just my fingers that were driving her wild as I glanced down to admire her body only to find her thighs parted, and her fingers busy stroking her wet little pussy through her jeans. I could feel my cock pushing almost painfully against my pants as I reached my maximum hardness. My teeth clenched to ignore the pain as I shifted to adjust my hips to find a more comfortable spot, that spot happened to be in her hand as she reached her free hand over to grope my. I talked to a blacksmith about saw blades. He’d never made a round one, but he could see what I meant. If I had something like a gristmill driven by a water wheel like my cofferdam’s pumps, a round saw would make cutting wood a lot faster and easier. We’d need a huge table to hold the logs, but that was carpentry. If I built the sawmill he’d make the blade.I also talked to the metalworkers about a set of brass or bronze trays for the ships. We’d tar the floor and walls to stop the water, but it. "Well, order the scotch if that's what you want to drink," I told him. "It's a pretty good story, and it's just winding down. But it looks like a happy ending. You be the judge, OK?" With that I swung into my story.It started a few weeks ago, on a Tuesday. It suddenly dawned on me that morning that Alice was really down. She was moving stiffly and acted like she was pretty sore. I asked her what was wrong. She told me she must have slept funny, she'd be all right as the day went on.I went on to.