Figuring since she wasn’t going out with any of her friends, and she wasn’t meeting anyone, she decided to dress a little more provocatively and g...o to some place across town. She chose a teal colored tank that showed off her curves and her cleavage, a skirt (that she thought was too short at one time) and a pair of little kitten heels. She stood in front of the mirror looking at herself and was pleased with how she looked, now for the finishing touches. She began applying her make-up, a little. A little matronly, I thought, but still found my eye drawn to Brenda's backside as she pushed the trolley. I directed her to the corner spot where I was parked. I was still sporting a semi, it had been a week or so since I'd last had sex, and the image of that girl's mound was embedded on my mind. I unlocked the doors, pulling open the rear door and helping to unload the goods into the back of my Range Rover. The goods all packed away, I led Brenda along by the wall, so we were shielded from. I didn't know I was capable of it, but Charlotte proved I was. She used her mouth, lips, tongue, and hands to bring me back to life twice. At first I was on top, then she was. I took her doggy style at her insistence, mindful of the headroom, before she let me put her legs over my shoulders and drive down into her as our "big finish." And finish it was, too. We had produced a gallon of sweat inside the joined sleeping bags to the point where we unzipped the sides and threw the top down off our. Not thin, but slender and firm and just...ripe. Every inch, every curve, every scent, every gasp was a woman bursting into fruit, dripping with sensuality and sexuality, our connection in the middle representing the most pure form of lust given and lust received, the last vestige of sex for the sake of pure wanton rawness. Not for procreation but for the most basic of instincts - to become part of another person, and for that person to give you their final and most sacred virginity in the only.