This was different. I imagined a beautiful black man taking me and a lady helping him. In my head I did not see their faces but could feel their touches and my pussy being filled with a massive cock. The contrast of colors and me struggling to take him made me wet. Reaching down, my hand caressed my nude pussy. It felt so strange to touch myself there and not feel the light coat of downy softness my husband loved to stroke. But he wasn't there so it was up to me. My middle finger on my right hand started to flick across the clit I knew so well. A shudder went through me as my hand worked, slowly at first, than faster, until my finger slipped lower, leaving the ball of my hand to rub the clitoris. My finger had slipped inside me, pushing higher, trying to reach that place that hubby always touched. As I continued to lay, my hand masturbating my cleanly shaved cunt, I lost myself in reflection. My mind was a montage of mental images, of black man fucking me. I thought about hubby, how. As I had feared back at the other complex the pollutants in the atmosphere were playing havoc with my engines. Richards' people had tried to install protective filters and screens over my engines air intakes but there was only so much they were able to do without impeding the operation of the Sparrow Hawk. Adding to the overall problem was visibility. The atmosphere looked like pea soup and I couldn't see a thing. My only real hope was that I could keep the bird up long enough to make it to the island and the bubble of clean air that existed there. I did my best to fix my problems as I pointed my nose landward. In seconds I crossed the invisible line and then things got even worse.My defensive radar system immediately picked up a hot signal and it warned me that somebody on the ground was tracking me. Being a hundred miles out, there was very little I could do about that except to put the pedal to the metal and to drop down towards the ocean below me in an effort to mask my.
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