She didn't move. (Should I get braver i asked myself) I lay quiet slowly beating off. I moved and laid my hand over her waist. Again she didn't move. ...(She was still sleeping) Moving right up against her warm body. She didn't move. I touched her stomach; she rolled to her back as her arm fell to her side. (Her hand was just inches away from my hard dick) her titties were not like a woman of 44. They stood out straight. No sag in those breasts. The areola are about the size of a 1/2 dollar &. This time I travelled by road, in a convoy of about a dozen Magirus Deutz 3 tonne trucks (only one previous owner—the Wehrmacht) that took two days to reach our destination. Although I couldn’t drive I had been detailed as co-driver in one of the Magis, and my task was to keep the driver awake as we rolled along the interminable autobahn to Hamburg at a steady, a boringly steady, 50 mph. I carried out my duty in an airman-like manner, unlike the co-driver of the vehicle behind mine, where both. I swirled it around my tongue and slurped on it like it was my fist drink of water after days in the desert. I used both hands to massage his big balls as I got into a rhythm pumping up and down on the stiff shaft. Mister Tyler's breathing got heavier and faster and he pulled at my hair as I ravenously blew him. I felt the muscles in his legs tighten and the head of his cock flare. I knew he was close, so I pulled off. “Not yet!” I commanded. I stood up, dropped my pants and stepped out of. Probably not a good idea. I restrained myself. What was it about the guy? Okay, he looked okay, but skinny. I’m no clothes horse myself, but really ... he needed some encouragement in the dressing area. Let’s see, Tall – maybe six foot two. Beard. Not used to facial hair in my family. But it was trimmed neatly enough. Eyes. Yes, his eyes. Blue. Expressive. Yeah ... very expressive. Who was it called the eyes the window of the soul? If that was true, he had a very attractive soul. And he.