She'd run away from her home in Los Angeles two weeks before, sleeping wherever she could and hustling strangers – panhandling only, she'd told Laura defiantly – for money. The day before she'd decided to hitchhike north, to San Francisco. She'd been picked up by a couple in a VW bus, and after gulping down wine and smoking grass, the rest was largely a blur.

That's how they'd found Cindy on the highway, on the outskirts of town, about a hundred miles north of Los Angeles, staggering and almost incoherent. She had no baggage at all and wore only a T-shirt, jeans and sandals. Apparently, she'd left her purse in the bus.

"She only remembers that they were all high, and both the guy and his wife were trying to rape her. Probably she got out of the bus when they pulled over for something and she ran like hell. Poor girl," Laura added, her brown eyes brimming over with sympathy. "She's only a kid."

"Yeah, and a real angel, too," Don said dryly. The trouble with his wife was that she was a sucker for a sob story. Aside from a soft heart, Laura also had a fairly pretty face, thick brunette hair, ripe, gorgeous tits, a lustful hot ass and the juiciest pussy Don had ever pierced in his life.

The trouble with Laura was her maternal instinct. She was always dragging home stray cats and dogs, even though they lived in an apartment. What she really needed was kids, Don knew, but he'd be damned if they'd be saddled with that burden until they had a house of their own.

Besides, secretly he was afraid she'd lose her fantastic figure once she started having kids. Laura was twenty-four now, and even though they'd been married for three years, they still sucked and fucked like mad teenagers. Don was six-feet tall, with strapping muscles he kept in shape as a warehouseman, and a massive prick that drove his hot brunette wife into a frenzy of joy.