I had kept in contact with my old sergeant, he had recently retired from the Army History Unit and had a beach house a couple of hours away. I pushed ...y vehicle to its limits and made it to Sgt Moses place in quick time. I didn’t want to involve anyone else but I had no choice. I had to talk to Brian Moses as he was a man who had connections and could organize a new identity. I had decided it was time for Roger Easton to die but on my terms! Brian Moses was working when I got there. That is. I still wasn’t sure if my Roscoe story would amuse her, but I told her anyway. ‘Okay so where did Roscoe end up,’ she asked me. ‘Under the dining room table washing himself, calm as could be.’ ‘And you were where again?’ ‘Still in the kitchen with my arms around Jodie.’ I couldn’t believe I phrased it that way, but it was too late. ‘What do you mean your arms around Jodie?’ ‘We were both still slipping on the jelly and I was trying to keep her from falling again.’ ‘And just how long did you. She turned and leaned back against the wall of the shelter, standing one legged, one foot planted on the perspex screen. While she looked at her phone I ran my eyes over the expanse of smooth inner thigh of her raised leg, her skirt had lifted a little, another inch and her shaved slit would be visible. Her tight flat stomach was showing, just a couple of inches below her tshirt, soft but firm, beautifully defined. Side on I could see the shape of her perfectly pert tiny teen tities, pointy. Slowly, l slide my hands up under your tank top and over your muscular tummy… leaning over, kissing down your neck to your shoulder and back up… then pushing one of my thighs between your legs, pressing it firmly against your crotch. Moving my hands from your tummy to your breasts, cupping your gorgeous breasts in my hands, kneading the soft flesh through your sports bra.~ Opening my eyes, looking directly at you, giggling to myself… sliding my own hand up under my wife beater, tracing.
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