There was a big guy on the side of the rode thumbing for a ride. He had on blue sweat shorts and a tight tank top that showed off his ripped chest. He...was shaven bald with a goatee and looked to be in his 40's. He was a towering mass of muscle that I'm sure a lot of people would've been intimidated by. But not me. I pick up hitchhikers all the time. They're all just normal people trying to get somewhere that ran into some bad luck. Being on the road a lot made me sympathize with them.So I. However, I was distracted by the persistent recollection of the night before, with Cressida writhing away under me, getting herself knocked up, and the thought that in a few hours' time, I'd be fucking her again.And there was the recollection of Charlotte, Cressida's mother, watching us from the bedroom window, and that little enigmatic smile. Did she know what we'd been doing? She'd certainly been able to smell the sex in her daughter's bedroom. I was quite prepared to bet she wasn't stupid. More

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