"Mark, your wife was just fascinated by the shear size of my shaft. I kept watching and let her enjoy herself. After a few minutes of watching your go...geous wife stroke my cock I leaned over and started to unbutton that pretty red blouse. She tried to help me with the buttons but I told her to keep stroking me, I'll get them loose."I took a deep breath trying to imagine in my mind what this scene must have looked like on my living room sofa."Mark, she moved her shoulders helping me slip off the. Except a paper cut or two. I never was very good at math and flying has math. At least the devil isn’t in it ... no numbers AND alphabet.Just numbers is bad enough.Instructors ... that’s a horse of a different color. Instructors have been known to exact a measure of pain ... not blood. Sweat and tears ... yes.A certain period of Ground School while the A&P mechanic inspected an already perfect aircraft was required. I needed to know terms.“Okay,” said my instructor, a fresh faced young lady. “How about giving me one of those beers,” she said. She was wearing a little black dress with spaghetti straps. It came down about six inches below her pubes She had straw color hair in a little pageboy. She didn’t look more than about fourteen.“You’re too young to drink beer, I told her.“I’m eighteen and I can prove it.” She fished a license out and handed it to me. Her name was Tawny something and it did show a birthday that made her eighteen. It also said she was five one and eighty-nine. I pushed it back and now my seat became a semi sleeperbed. Nice, I leaned back and closed my eyes tried to get some much neededsleep. But the wind hit me hard. I had not tucked in my shirt,Actually my shirt ended where myskirt started. I had not worn any slip inside. I wore a bra. The wind wastrying to lift my shirt up and there was danger of my entire stomach beingexposed to the driver. I held on to the shirt hard not allowing it to rise. Butthe wind was hitting me harder every second. I.