After the swing, we had a go on a wooden see-saw, and I got a good view of Vicky's pussy each time her end of the see-saw went to the ground, leaving ...er with her bum virtually on the floor, her feet flat on the floor, and her knees up in the air and wide apart. I suppose that I must have been showing as much as her, but I wasn't thinking at the time."Leaving your snail's trail again" Jon said as we got off, and I looked back, and saw the wet patches that our pussies had left on the wooden. They bought it the year after I was born, in December of 1968. It was a left over. It was a 1968 Mercedes-Benz 200D Fintail with a four-speed-on-the-tree gearbox. In that year, believe it or not, you could get manual or automatic in a choice of floor shift or column shift for either. It was a bit faded and had a bit of rust, but that was partially hidden by its dark maroon paint job. It was missing one of its hubcaps; my dad must have lost it. My mom would never have tolerated that.The seats. She began to ride me, squatting up and down on the bench, pile driving down onto my cock, hands on my shoulder to steady herself, and her hair wildly flying every which way. It was too much now.I grabbed her ass under her skirt, pulled her against me and I stood up, dropping her weight down on to my cock, driving it deep up into her pussy. We began to fuck standing up, her legs wrapped around me, me still straddling over the bench. Her loud moans brought out my own, and we were grunting like. She had dated older boys and those her age but there was something scary about it. She didn’t feel in charge. Her insecurity stemmed from her dominating father. A military man who expected Salma to be at the top of everything she did, and if she wasn’t then he would lay it on her. Telling her she was useless, stupid, and lazy. She was none of those things, of course. It all changed the summer she turned eighteen. A new family had moved in across the street from them. Their son went to Salma’s.