“Okay. I can’t…I can’t wear them. The air feels so good on my…my nipples.”“How about your shorts?” I asked.She tried to kick them off,...but there was no way she could get them over her boots.“Come over here,” I said, “and sit. I’ll get them off.”She shuffled over, ankles trapped by her clothes, then awkwardly sat on the rock, emitting an “eek!” as she sat on the comparatively cold rock, then shifted her feet, shorts, panties, and boots, over to me.I knelt down, slowly unlacing her left boot,. Sure enough, shortly after I decided on the last minute details of my story I would tell Andrea, I could smell spaghetti. I looked back, and saw her and her colleague push the food cart down the aisle towards the front of the plane. She was looking sexy as always. I imagined her pussy lips gently rubbing together with every step she took towards the front of the plane. Steak or Chicken, Sir, she asked with her all so sexy German accent. I'll have the Fillet Mignon, by which of course mean your. More

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