On the way out the door I spotted boxes of little blue bags, like dishwasher soap packs. These weren't soap, though--they were deodorizers for the hol...ding tank! They were like gold when they were really needed. I bought four boxes.The truck stop had several air-ride seats that would fill the bill--much as the captain's chair did in a professionally built RV. It would lock into a face-forwards driving position or allow me to spin about and use it as a comfortable chair when not on the road. My. I heard her washing her hands, and I decided to walk in. I went behind her and wrapped my hands around her body. I was acting on what felt good without the care of the outcome. One of my hands was under her shirt, slowly rubbing around her perky nipples. Her head was bent forward against the mirror and her long brow hair hanging over the sink. I was slowly kissing her soft neck and her ear. I lifted up her skirt and started felling her pussy, it was still wet, worm and slippery. Her lags. "I wasn't sure if he'd approve of that or not. I'm still not sure if he did. But he at least accepted it. "So, then, you need a way to hide from your parents for half an hour. Or at least hide your arms from them." And they'll be looking for me, you can bet," I said.Brandon was appraising me candidly. "You know, they're not that visible."I snorted. "Yeah right." Every second of the day, I can feel them. I'm honestly surprised no one else had ever noticed before: in my mind, they burn through. Sascha, meanwhile, has undone his pants and shoved them, along with his boxer shorts, down around his ankles. His cock is rock hard. He guides it to her vaginal opening, rubbing it up and down her wet folds, then positions it again, poised to thrust inside her. She looks up at him. Yvonne (whispering urgently): Stick it in me, Sascha! FUCK me! Sascha buries his cock in her in a single, hard thrust. She groans in ecstasy. Yvonne: UHHHhhhhhhh&hellip,.yesssssss&hellip,..oh, god, your cock is.