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Not because they were military, but because they were there at all.Then the one in the forward chair noticed me standing here."Excuse me. Who are you two? Does Jacob know you are here?" I looked again at the trajectory display. "What's with the island? He told me that he was heading to the Middle East."The person sitting in the forward chair ignored my questions. "How soon until we get there?" Parris Island in twenty five minutes, General, if I'm reading these instruments correctly." Parris Island?? Why would he want to go there?" He doesn't have a choice."I started to move to the navigation chair. "Explain yourselves."The officer in the forward chair snapped, "We do not have to explain ourselves to any civilians."I was getting worried. So I sat in the navigation chair and entered my own code.The system quietly accepted me. I then quietly entered one of the few straight numerical address codes I knew by heart.The Hades turned to the right.The person in the command chair gave a start.. She isdressed just like she said she would be in the email, short jean skirt, blacktank top, and a little over-shirt that she has dropped down below hershoulders. She's carrying a white bag with blue straps.She wasn?t kidding about the haireither. Its long curling waves flow down her back almost past her fulllush ass. You know it?s her and the anticipation makes your cock jumpeagerly in your pants. As you slowly move the vehiclecloser you see her flick the remainder of a cigarette into the street. You know for sure now that it's the right girl. You drive past her in thevan, your eyes lingering in the rear view at her large round half-exposedbreasts. You pull up around the corner and wait. The forbiddenthrill of what you are about to do makes your dick get even stiffer.You climb back into the main part ofthe van, happy that you remembered to remove the middle seats. Keeping aneye on the rear-view mirror you loosen the door from its latch so it willeasily slide open when the.
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Then he went to work in earnest. He rained blows on her; as far as she was concerned, he opened the floor below her feet and dumped her ass-first into a hurricane. His rhythm felt erratic; there was no way to work with the white-hot agony, no way to breathe through it, no way control her wriggling.Or her helpless, rageful tears.Or her sporadic, high-pitched, guttural shrieks.At some indefinable but familiar point of sensory overload, she simply surrendered. She let the pain in, and it blotted out all thinking, all anticipating, all fear, all sound and sight. When he finally stopped, she was in a tight, trembling arch, her welted backside straining toward the cane, striped with it's thin red double tracks, each pair sandwiching a bruise.Beautiful. Probably the best performance art of her brilliant career.She stopped in the ladies room upstairs after wriggling back into her latex and politely blowing him and his hard-on off, and not in the way he'd clearly hoped for; his phone number,.

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