I only live about eight miles away, in Datchet."I had nothing better to do, and she obviously wanted to make amends for her frosty reception earlier, so I agreed. She gave me a warm smile as we rode down to the underground car park in the lift. Mrs. Bowley – 'Oh, please call me Steph, all my friends do' – stood thigh to thigh with me, and somehow managed to let her fingers brush against my crotch as we left the lift.In the car park she indicated a canvas topped E Type Jaguar, finished in British Racing Green. "My father left me this; it's my pride and joy," she said as we fitted ourselves into the leather seats.She drove swiftly out of the car park, swinging into the main road and swerving around a dawdling milk float. I grabbed for the dashboard as I slid along the seat. "Don't worry, Dewey," Steph shouted above the roar of the exhaust, "I'm always in complete control ... of everything."It didn't take long for us to reach her apartment block and its underground car park. As she had. All I know is I don’t want her to stop. She is moving slowly up my side until her hand brushes the side of my breast. I feel my nipples harden as they press into my nightshirt. Trina moves her hand until she cups my breast making me moan into her mouth. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer to me. Trina’s body is so soft, so small. It is the exact opposite of my husband. I want to feel more, I need to feel more. There is such a longing between my thighs. I am confused because I know this is wrong, but it feels so good there is no stopping now. She is now on her knees using her body to push me to the floor. My legs part allowing her to move in between them. As she squeezes my breast with one hand I feel her other hand on my thigh. It slowly moves up and she slips it under my night shirt. Her hand reaches the top of my thigh and I feel her fingers barely brush against my pussy. Trina doesn’t move her fingers instead she pulls back to look at me giving me a chance to say no. I.
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