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It was a prepaid phone that would be ditched after the mission was complete.The intercom came back to life. “Are you alone?”“No. I’m here with a bodyguard.”“You can come up to the house. Alone.”“Won’t work. My bodyguard will tie me up before he lets me do this without him.”The intercom went silent again.“You were correct about that,” Boris said when he came back a minute later.“If you can stop me then you’re a better mind reader than I realized.”“If not me, then Ellen. She’ll be here in a minute.”“Okay. I admit defeat. You’re both a couple of old ladies.”“Drive up,” the voice from the intercom barked and the front gate started to open.They hopped into the car and drove up a gravel driveway lined on one side by huge oak trees. The ranch house came into view. It was every bit as big as Patterson had said.Two men were waiting in front of the ranch house. One carried a shotgun, the other a handgun.“Are you armed?” the one with the shotgun called to them as they got out of the car.“I’ve. Her hands cupped and lathered and rinsed those magnificent globes, and as the soap sluiced down her body (to this day I still can't tell you anything else about her body from that memory except what her perfect tits looked like), all the time spent increasing my “performance window”, well, it went right out the door because I simply dropped my shorts and undies, licked my right palm once for what was totally unnecessary lubrication given the fountain of pre-come that was already spewing from the head, grabbed my throbbing erection and beat off like I was trying for a land speed record. I brought myself to orgasm in 5 or 6 seconds, spewed what felt like the single largest output I'd ever managed over the bench and locker nearest me, stuffed my still-leaking cock back in my clothes, and ran like hell. I ran home, locked myself in my room, lay on my bed, and replayed that moment. The harsh lights of the shower reflecting off her impossible curves. The soap dripping from her.
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