She tried to walk without hip sway, without jiggling. Marcie knew she was pretty; felt as if she had always known that, enough people had told her. An... it was true. She was a wholesome, girl-next-door, American beauty, a breathing centerfold, a walking wet-dream with a smile on her fresh-scrubbed face.She slid into the leather seat of her Mustang and sighed. A whole year and not one decent man, and if she had tried one, she had tried twenty, all duds, every damn one of them. Marcie was not. He ran his fingers up and down the side of her underwear and made her ache for his touch. She kissed him eagerly and moved closer to him, no longer caring that somebody might walk past and see them. He put his fingers into her and felt her wetness, making her gasp and grip at his t-shirt. Suddenly a big dog jumped on top of them, barking and wagging its tail. A lady came over to fetch her dog, running up to it saying “Bad dog! Bad dog!” she looked at them weirdly, obviously noticing that his. More

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