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The long low Jaguar cruised through the park like a slinking animal stalking its prey, pausing for a moment while the voluptuously sensual woman inside shifted gears, then the car soared effortlessly up the winding road ahead.
At that moment, Sally Baxter, the honey-haired blonde behind the wheel, was hardly aware of the battered black Plymouth following several hundred yards behind. Other things were whirling through her mind … other more important things … like handsome young boys! She knew she would find them here … she had to find them!
It was getting urgent now. Her head was pounding, her throat was dry as sandpaper and a strange nervous trembling had seized her entire curvaceous body so that her hands shook noticeably as she held the steering wheel. A light sweat began to break out on her forehead as, almost unconsciously, she reached for the top buttons of her silk blouse and undid them one by one. Casually, the flimsy see-through material fell away from the ripely swelling cleavage of her young breasts until just a hint of the rich white mounds protruded from her brassiere.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.