"Oh no!" Lucia wailed. "That's terrible!" For me it is. A desk jockey at thirty-two. Shit! There ain't no justice," he snapped. Then he looked at Fait... apologetically. "Pardon my French, please." It's all right, baby," Lucia soothed. "It's all right. Say it again if you want to. I know how you loved flying." He nodded."Can't you appeal it? I mean, are you sure it's permanent?" He shook his head. "Flight surgeon's orders," he explained. "Reflexes aren't fast enough any more." Lucia got to her. “Turn around.” You slip off your pantyhose to use the legs in the pantyhose as cuffs. You bound my hands behind my back adding extra stimulation, but with a bit of confusion. You just don’t tie a single knot. You use the entire length of the legs to ensure that I won’t be breaking free of my bonds. You turn me back to where my back is against the back seat of the couch. You sit on top of my legs with your legs straddling mine. We are now face to face looking at each other in our eyes. You lean. More

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