Betty didn't answer. She kissed him again and Bob grabbed her tit. It wasn't the same after being stopped, and he soon got too restless to continue massaging her tit without hope of getting fucked. Betty sensed his impatience and they soon separated their bodies. Betty said she had to get going and Bob told her he was glad she stopped by, he really was.

While she walked down the driveway Bob touched the lump in his pants. His cock responded by jerking against the prison of his jeans. He imagined that it was Betty's hand as he closed his eyes and brought the memory of her firm tit into his mind. He massaged his cock through his pants until he couldn't resist pulling it out.

The stiff, blood-engorged prick stood up on his lap with his hand wrapped tightly around it. Bob looked at the well-padded head and imagined it plowing up Betty's snatch. He felt his pulse beating fast and strong in the shaft he was holding, and like so many times before he started jerking off.

Slowly at first, then gradually faster, until he was a raving maniac. The frustrated lust that had built up within him was coming to a boil and about to explode. When it did overflow the steaming cauldron of his body, Bob had a few seconds of bliss. Then his brain leveled off and there he was, sitting in his car with gism all ever the place.

Bob sat there for a long time. He wondered if he would ever get the car on the road and if he would ever get laid. At that moment it didn't seem likely.

CHAPTER THREE

Bob didn't get much work done that day. His mind kept returning to the firm tits that he had had the pleasure of massaging that morning. His mood began to lift as he figured that if he kept plugging away, he would have to get laid eventually. After all, Betty had let him grab some lit. If he got her in his car again he might get even farther, and if he got the right girl he might be able to wet his dong.