She turned to me with a slightly exasperated look on her face - her silver hair cut in a long pageboy, blue eyes, full lips, high cheekbones with the ...prinkle of wrinkles and lines showing her age. She was wearing a grey sweatshirt that could barely contain the big tits swaying underneath the cotton material. I saw a hard nipple pushing against the fabric. “Thank you”, she gasped, a little out of breath. “No one in this fucking neighborhood will lift a finger for anyone.” I wasn't. Her constant bouncing around in the backseat was a joy to watch, especially as that little skirt slid up and down her thighs, and I felt my hands constantly drawn to her legs. She giggled and pulled away at first; then, as the champagne bottle got emptier and emptier, she started returning some of my caresses.When her hand found the front of my khakis and began stroking, I pressed the button to raise the divider between us and the driver. He nodded at me silently, in the rear view mirror, and I. More

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