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| Trappers | Back to D | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
update april 16 - 2010
Another story by Wolverine
Trappers
by WOLVERINE
PART 1
The bronzed girl cyclist in singlet and shorts swerved gracefully around the main road corner and into sight, struggling against a strong head wind which flung her black locks around and pressed the thin red material against her small, hard breasts. She was a picture of confident, liberated femininity and of graceful athleticism, beautifully framed by the Scottish Highland hills in the background.
Up a side road on higher ground, two men in a battered orange-and-cream camper van watched intently. The tall, plump, grey-haired one watched through binoculars, taking in the girl’s attractive Latin face and her frown of concentration as she battled and beat the elements. Then as she passed, he watched with even more interest as her tightly-muscled arse-cheeks in her tight dark-blue shorts pulsed up and down in disunion, rubbing against one another, one up then the other as she forced the bike forward. Tony handed the binoculars to his short, wiry, weatherbeaten companion. “Just beautiful, Sam,” he commented softly. A must have. Reckon so?” Sam delayed his reply as he drank in the view of their unsuspecting target. “Must have, will have” he replied. “Actually it isn’t that simple,” he admitted reluctantly. “Hand me the map, could you? We can’t take her on the main road, it’s much too risky.
Before Dornoch there are three side turnings, but the one towards the sea just goes to a viewing place and a couple of houses, so I think we can rule that out as her destination. The other two go up into the hills for miles in pretty wild country: the first goes to a well-known beauty spot and a camping barn and the second passes through a farm and ends at a big private estate. If she turns off up either of those, I reckon she’s ours. If she carries on into Dornoch, though, we could lose her – and if her destination is Dornoch, we’ve definitely lost her.”
Tony was checking his watch as he studied the map. After a while he said, “Right. If we follow slowly now, we should still be some way behind her when the first turning comes, but we should be able to see if she turns. Let’s go!”
He ground the camper van through the gears and drove it quite slowly on to the main road. Some five miles later, they saw the striving dark blue target still fighting the wind. They caught their breath as she approached the first turning into the hills. Swerving the bike in a graceful curve, she took the turning and started up a long climb.
The van overtook her while she was struggling up the steep slope. The two men had a ringside view of her tight rump raised off the saddle and struggling to impose itself on the elements, but she did not see them at all, still less realise that the vehicle passing was one which had passed her three or four times earlier, each time mysteriously falling behind. Three miles on, near the crest of a hill, Tony and Sam parked the van behind a clump of trees and set their ambush.
As the girl reached the crest, a marvellous view opened out before her – scattered pine trees and small pockets of blue water, clumps of heather and bare, weathered rock, rolling away for miles to a distant river valley. She drank in the scene. Scotland was beautiful, she thought; the day was beautiful; life was wonderful. These were the last thoughts of her free life.
As she started to descend there was a sudden WHUMP! Like a small explosion and a large net shot across the road, snaring her and bringing her down painfully in a jumble with her bike. Her long, bronzed legs twitched as she tried to break free, but she merely became more entangled. A human shape appeared above her, a man looking down. He bent towards her, pushing her head down; then a sharp pain at the back of her head put an end to her struggles.
In the gully beside the road, out of sight of any traffic, Tony and Sam expertly disentangled the lovely limp body from the net and the bike. She was a magnificent catch: a hunter would have proudly posed with one foot on her rump for a triumphal photograph before having her stuffed and mounted. Tony and Sam, though, wanted her alive. They took in the proud Latin face, the firm breasts, the tanned, muscular limbs, the firm, seductively parted rump in its tight blue wrapping. They loaded her into the back of the van and rifled through her tiny rucksack and neat saddlebags, removing a camera, money, spare panties and shorts, and finally a passport with a smiling photo. The bike too went into the back, with Sam advising that a loch a few miles on would be a good place to drop it. As Sam drove off, Tony was stroking the inert girl’s legs and feeling her breasts. He gagged her tightly with a greasy old rag, handcuffed her shapely wrists behind her back and then turned to the passport: “Italian – I might have guessed. Giovanna Spadolini, age 20, student.”
“Good, we haven’t had an Italian before. Klaus might like her, or the Japanese syndicate or the Nigerian General. Should be able to get them bidding against one another. Anyway, no hurry – we’ll want good use of her first!”
They did nothing more to the girl before she revived as they wanted her to be fully aware of what they were doing to her and looked forward to a bit of pointless struggling. Many miles later, their catch began to move her long legs and made the MMMMF sound that was now the limit of her vocabulary. In response, Sam drew the van into the next layby and came round the back. They smiled down at the helpless girl, taking their time and letting her see they were not at all worried about her seeing their faces. Then Tony gripped her red top at the neck opening, tensed his powerful arms and ripped the flimsy garment halfway down, revealing firm young breasts unprotected by a bra. With another effort, he ripped it entirely apart and pulled it roughly from under her. “See, darling, my friend here is strong,” Sam pointed out. “If you don’t behave, he can do that to you! Understand?” She stared at him but said nothing. “NOD YOUR HEAD! UNDERSTAND?” he yelled. She nodded her head. “Are you going to do what you’re told?” She nodded again. Satisfied, he slipped his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down to her Nike trainers. Irritated at this barrier, he tugged the trainers off her feet without undoing the laces and plucked the shorts off his victim. Her most secret place was still protected by a tiny pair of white knickers with pink rosebuds, but a sliver of curly black hairs escaped from the narrow band between her legs.
Sam was in no hurry. He bent to inspect the slip of material and the curly black hairs, sniffed as if he was appreciating a beautiful flower or a fine wine and only then peeled her inadequate knickers off to reveal a luxuriant black bush. “Legs up!” Tony ordered. Perhaps not understanding, she did not react, so Tony started to twist her left breast round while chanting “Legs up! Legs up!” She was a strong, athletic young woman and now she did what he ordered – lifting both legs until her toes pointed to the van’s roof and her cunt lips and arsecrack were presented to her captors. Grabbing her slim ankles in his plump hands, Tony forced her legs back further till the puckered pink bullseye gaped for his friend to enter. Sam did not refuse the invitation: as his iron-stiff cock pushed further and further into the helpless girl, he reached forward and grabbed hold of her breasts to give himself purchase as he pumped violently, filling her with his triumphant, conquering cum. Finally he pulled out, wiped his cock on her shorts and handed over to his friend.
Tony was more demanding. Unsatisfied with the opening presented for his huge and still swelling weapon, he yanked her lips still further apart. As the battering-ram smashed into her, he let her lips close around it and pushed forward till he could grasp her glossy black head hair. When he had finished she lay limp like a dead thing or an abandoned doll.
A few minutes later, Sam was busy on his mobile phone. An auction had begun.
Felicity Gower looked up from sorting out a box of her employer’s new purchases as the bookshop bell announced a customer had entered. It was that sort of bookshop – dowdy, old-fashioned and stacked with all kinds of old and rare books. Felicity herself was not at all dowdy: her clothes were quiet and decent, admittedly, but her short blonde hair, sweet face and generous breasts and bottom contrasted with the age and obscurity of the books.
The customer was a middle-aged man, wiry, quite short, dark-haired and with the weatherbeaten face of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He nodded politely and told Felicity he was just looking around. She was rather disappointed when this quite old but rather dishy man, after some casual wandering, became fixed on the section that Mr Jeffs kept strictly for his own management.
Felicity saw Mr Jeffs as a dirty old man, but manageable. He had a way of brushing past her bottom when she was bending forward for some task and there wasn’t quite enough room. His piggy eyes often seemed to be sizing her up and undressing her; but he had done nothing really bad, he paid quite well and she loved bookshop work.
The customer had buried himself in one of Mr Jeffs’ special books, so Felicity made herself scarce. As the man finally, reluctantly, put the book back, he found a tall figure watching him.
“Tony! Well!
“Sam! After all these years! Still got the same interests, I see. What brings you to Birmingham?”
“Conference. You’ve hardly changed, mate!”
This was not true, of course, but Sam could see that while his old friend was a little overweight and his hair had gone grey, he still looked strong and now had a distinguished air about him.
“What do you do for a living? Any wife?” A few words established Sam’s profession and the fact that he had married but the marriage had broken up, since when he had preferred a series of conquests and sharp breaks. Tony, on the other hand, admitted to a current wife, Carla, who was currently buying books in Edinburgh and a son at boarding school.
“We share a lot of memories,” said Tony, with a slight smile and a glint in his eyes. This was very true: the two men’s common memories from schooldays were not just of the usual gropes and japes. They shared knowledge of what had happened to a leggy, prissy, virginal schoolgirl at a summer camp one year, and more seriously, of what had befallen their sweet-faced, giant-arsed young teacher Miss Barron almost a year later; but as they left the shop in Felicity’s capable hands and strolled into a nearby pub, their reminiscences were starting at a less dramatic level.
“Remember when we bunked off boys’ P.E. and staked out the sixth-form girls’ cross-country?” Sam asked.
“Oh, yes! Waiting behind that bush for one of them running alone, past they all went, tits bobbling and arses working, until finally one came puffing along all on her own and it was old Delarue, her big tits wobbling against one another!”
“Jumped her, dragged her into the bushes, did what we wanted…that was great! But I thought you were a bit unkind, chucking her navy-blue knickers on top of that high, thorny bramble bush!”
“And the stupid slut actually said, ‘Please, bring my knickers down!’ and your reply was brilliant…”
“We’ve brought your knickers down already, you stupid tart – haven’t you noticed?”
“And there were other girls running past – she struggled all right, but she never screamed or shouted for help.”
They chuckled together.
“Then there was old Cook,” Sam began.
“Oh, wow, yes!”
“You started that, didn’t you? I came in when it was already in full swing. I always wondered how it started, but somehow I never asked you.”
“Well, I was packing for homework and I realised I’d left my geometry set at Chrissie’s and she wouldn’t be around – and I needed it for a piece of work that night. Old Cairns was pretty hard on kids who hadn’t done their homework. Anyway, I was looking pretty upset and old Cook said, “What’s wrong, Jeffs?” so I told her. All sympathetic and kind, she says “I’ve done that bit of work – you can have mine” and then she’s rummaging about in her bag looking for her geometry set, her back’s to me and her bum sticking out in that pleated skirt as she bends to look, so I just couldn’t resist shoving a hand up her skirt…”
“How far did you get?”
“Just got to her knickers and felt a crack. Then she swung round and slapped me hard in the face. Well, I couldn’t stand for that, so I grabbed her, sat down, put her across my knee, yanked her skirt up and gave her six good whacks on her pretty pink-knickered arse. The mean little slut elbowed me in the balls and ran for it – pushed
Hassan out of the way as if she were a champion rugby player, she was outrunning me and Larter, then you blocked her way.”
“Ran right into me, she did. I looked into her eyes and they looked sort of glazed like she was desperate. That was fantastic. It was easy – I pushed on the top of her head and she went down. Then you and the others got to her. Bit unfair, really – she outfoxed and outfought all of you, but it didn’t do her any good. Anyway, when she was lying on her belly and you and Hassan were pulling her tits out of her bra, she was struggling like hell and her legs were kicking in this weird way – first one big kick, then the other leg, and each time her bum-cheeks shifted in that pleated uniform skirt. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, so she should have known it’d make me shove my hand up under her skirt. Got right into her arsecrack before she realised what was going on! Then of course she was kicking and wriggling even more, but I just shoved my hand hard into the crack and her cheeks were shifting one way and the other, rubbing against my hand – wow! I was amazed she was wearing knickers with some kind of little holes in them. Then I stuck my other hand in, grabbed the knickers and tore them top to bottom, as it were.
Then I shifted focus a bit and found her cunt. There was a wisp of knicker-material protecting it, but I didn’t bother to get under it – I just shoved it right into her cunt with my fingers behind it. She stopped kicking then!”
“And by then we had her tits out for all to see, we were squeezing and sucking them…”
“And I pulled her ludicrous torn knickers out, stood with one foot on her arse and held the knickers out like a trophy, while everyone cheered! I’ve still got them at home!”
“And she never told.”
“She knew what was best for her. Not just us, there were other kids would have sorted her if she’d made trouble.”
“Yes, I feel good about that episode. Taught the stupid slut that bending over presenting her arse to a red-blooded male was asking for it.” They laughed together.
“Then there was what happened at that summer camp.” Sam continued.
“That thing with old Parker?”
“Her to start with.”
“No-one I’ve ever met was asking for it more than she was. Eighteen, walking around with those unbelievable tits, fantastic legs, nice little bum, but looking down her nose at all the boys. Larter got her to go to the cinema with him, and when he shoved his hand up her skirt, she slapped his face and stormed out! It wasn’t a huge surprise we found she was a virgin.”
“Not when we’d finished with her!” Sam chuckled. “And she never told, either! And so stupidly trusting, she believed us when we told her Miss Barron had asked us three to rearrange the furniture in that spare room!” He paused and continued, “Then there was the same place next year…”
Tony looked a bit less sure of himself. “Ah, yes, Miss Barron herself…” Sam picked up the uncertainty in his friend’s voice. “Of course, we didn’t plan the way it ended,” he remarked. “We couldn’t know she’d try to run off down those wet steps. Stupid of her really, we’d already fucked the tail off her and roasted her arse with that table tennis bat.”
“Oh, yes – what a target! Remember me asking her if she’d any experience of the cane, and the stupid doe-eyed cow replied, ‘No, certainly not, we don’t use corporal punishment now and anyway I’m opposed to it.’?”
“And you said, ‘That’s a pity. We don’t have a cane, but we’re going to whack you silly with this bat, you fat cunt!’.”
“Maybe it was the cigarettes that made her try to get away,” Tony suggested.
“Yes, she didn’t like them, especially when we stubbed them out on her tits, and that scream when you put one on her nipple and held it there – best sound I’ve ever heard! Except maybe when I stuck one on her cunt lips. Still, I know I went out to look around because we’d heard a sound outside, but I still can’t understand how she escaped from you.”
“I was overconfident and she kicked me in the ankle. Off she went down the steps and of course she slipped and the rest is history.”
“To be honest,” Sam said slowly, “that was the real reason why I let our friendship drop – I was a bit scared what might happen and a bit confused about what had happened. I still wonder if with all this DNA analysis of stuff from old cases, they might find us out.”
Tony grinned with secret satisfaction. “Then stop worrying! Carla used to work in one of those laboratories. She searched out those samples and destroyed them and she substituted a sample a Chief Constable had given as part of a publicity stunt!”
“That’s a big relief,” Sam admitted. “It takes away the last reason for not suggesting something. Those were good times, weren’t they? We worked well together.”
“Yes.”
“So why not start up again? We’ve both got freedom to move about, we’ve both got vehicles, and we could have a lot of fun with the odd jogger or gap year tourist.” Tony seemed to consider a long time. “I can make that a business proposition,” he said finally. With my contacts in the specialist books and videos trade, I know of people who’d pay extremely good money for a good quality female captive. What’s more, they’d never escape to point the finger at us.”
“How about Carla?”
“She’ll love the idea, believe me! Why do you think she’s the first woman I’ve been able to settle down with?” Tony chuckled.
The two friends settled down to discussing practicalities – suitable vehicles they already owned, convenient places to hide a captive for a while, technical equipment (Sam had rocket-propelled nets used for catching flocks of birds for ringing and a gun that fired tranquilliser darts, while Tony had a taser smuggled back from the States off a yacht and a supply of disguises intended for sex games) and likely hunting grounds. They agreed that tourist towns with a lot of cultural history like Canterbury, university towns like Oxford and areas of famous beautiful wild scenery like the Lake District were all likely places. The more they talked, the more excited they both became. They would be masters of the trade.
On the walk back to the shop, Sam sensed Tony was building up to saying something he was unsure about.
Finally, the other man spoke. “Sam, I’ve got a special request, and you may turn it down. Before we go looking for prey in Oxford and Scotland and the rest, there’s a special target I’d love us to take. Over the years I’ve watched this sweet little cutie visiting her old aunt in the close off our street, taking her flowers and food but always having time to smile at neighbours like me and chat a bit. She started growing tits six or seven years ago. Now she’s fully-grown, left school, studying to be a nurse, last week she was smiling so sweetly at me and telling me how well her eighteenth birthday had gone, but she still visits her old aunt. She has gorgeous firm tits and a tight, round little arse, big round blue eyes and I reckon she’s almost certainly still a virgin. Every night I dream about stringing her up, whipping the arse off her and fucking her to a snivelling jelly. Can we take her – as a special favour?”
Sam did not reply at first. “That could be very, very risky. From your description, I quite understand why you want to have her, but taking someone who has any kind of connection with one of us could be fatal. Still... Would people connect you and her at all?”
“We’ve been seen chatting, but only very briefly in the street and she chats to everyone.”
“Have you had any kind of trouble with the law?”
“Only a bit of a set-to over income tax, but what small businessman hasn’t? And that was with the Inland Revenue, not the police. They do know some of my books are, well, specialist, but they’re all legal, the ones in the shop anyway. It suits the police to stay on good terms with people like me and watch the customers in case any of them fit the profile of a rapist or someone. They tend to assume the shopkeeper’s not a problem if he plays ball.”
“O.K. – I’ll wait for her, check out her route and look at whether the thing can be done reasonably safely. When does she visit?”
“Almost every Sunday at 11, like clockwork.”
Two weeks later, Sam phoned his old friend. Tony could hardly hide his excitement and Sam’s message was positive. “I’ve seen her and I agree we must take her. There’s one section of her route which is very quiet on a Sunday. I’ve got a plan, but it’ll need you and Carla taking part.”
“No problem at all!” Jeffs felt his cock stiffen even just with the thought of what they were going to do to the unsuspecting damsel.
Next Sunday, as auburn-haired Hilary Littlewood, dangling a packed shoulder-bag, walked briskly down the quiet avenue with a small park on one side, she was unaware of a man following. She was walking quickly because the weather had changed and light rain was falling. This was embarrassing because she had not put on a bra under her new peach-coloured top and she knew if it got wet she would show more of her nipples than she wanted. Behind her, Sam’s eyes were fixed on the rapidly-shifting firm, round cheeks in the mannish grey trousers. No-one else was about. She was coming up to the car now!
Hilary had hardly noticed the black car with the passenger-side door slightly open and the window down, but as she drew level with it a frightened female voice called out, “Help! Can you help? Please!” She looked in and saw the voice came from that nice Mrs Jeffs who lived near her aunt. In the front passenger seat Mr Jeffs was doubled up, groaning. As a student nurse she had to help. What luck for poor Mr Jeffs she’d just been passing! She lent in to examine him, telling him it was all right, that he’d be fine. Then Jeffs leapt up, banging the top of his head hard against her face as she bent over him and cracking her head against the car roof. Jeffs grabbed her by her top and her hair and hauled her on top of him. Following up, Sam Barnes tidied her legs up and slammed the door. Jeffs expertly pressed a point in the back of her neck and she blacked out.
She was a virgin, too, till Sam broke into her while she squealed and pleaded. Tony slapped her hard, three times, and then followed in. He had been dreaming of that for a long time.
On a crisp autumn day, two men in a silver 4X4 were driving slowly through a picturesque village in Dorset. They were headed for the historic old town of Dorchester, so popular with Japanese, German and American tourists for its fine old buildings and literary connections; but they saw no reason not to keep a good look-out on the way. They were not interested in thatched cottages or quaint village water pumps, or even the pair of stocks preserved outside one churchyard. The stocks appealed to Jeffs and Barnes, but there was no chance of putting them to use, as in these politically correct days the interfering and mollycoddling state would soon stop any attempt to secure some juicy young woman in them, head and both arms through the holes in the wood, rump sticking out unprotected for a good whipping and buggering. They were interested in the occasional sexy girl, local or tourist, but the villages were too full of people and there was a distinct lack of places where some unsuspecting sweetie could be jumped on and tied up.
After a quick look for any police cars or speed cameras, Jeffs had just accelerated when he saw something that made him slow down. It was a girl of teenage appearance, neat shortish brown hair, pale grey knitted top over a slim figure, plump little bum stuffed into tight, faded pale blue jeans. She was walking from house to house, a black bag slung over her narrow shoulder, a large, cylindrical collection tin in her hand and a photo badge hanging from her slim neck. She was now coming to a small group of large houses on the outskirts of the village, houses with large front gardens and gravelled drives. Now there was hardly anyone about. Jeffs stopped the vehicle.
The girl disappeared down one long drive flanked by flowerbeds and soon returned. She set off briskly for the next drive. This one was flanked by large bushes, rhododendron, juniper and laurel. When she was well down it, Jeffs pulled the vehicle into the drive, out of sight of the street, and parked it – out of sight also of the far end of the drive. Without a word, merely communicating by nods and smiles, the two men jumped out and hid behind the bright-flowered rhododendrons. Soon they heard the crunch of small feet moving briskly on gravel. At the first flash of pale grey through the branches, they crouched low. The unsuspecting girl passed by. Barnes jumped out and gripped her in an armlock: as she struggled, her tight little cheeks writhed excitingly against his stiffening cock.
She dropped the collection tin but did not scream, only making a small noise like “Oh!” That was all the noise she could make, for Jeffs was now pressing the chloroform-impregnated cloth on to her face, trapping her nose and mouth. A few seconds later, she went limp. She was surprisingly light to carry, Barnes found. Jeffs picked up the shoulder-bag and collection tin and they loaded the whole catch in the 4X4. As Jeffs drove off, Barnes ripped the neat grey top off and used it to tie her arms behind her back. This operation revealed neat small breasts in a pink bra. He ripped the bra apart at the central bridge and fingered her firm, virginal breasts. Then her remembered the collection tin and pulled the top off it. A few minutes later he told Jeffs with satisfaction that they’d not only picked up a fine new slave, quite possibly a virgin by the look of her, but netted seventy-two pounds and forty-three pence.
That evening as the new catch was waiting for their attention, bound tightly with rope and gagged, her despairing eyes following every movement, Barnes reached between her legs, pushed up, and found himself barred. She was a virgin. He and Jeffs debated whether to fuck her or leave her a virgin for one of their clients. The choice was pleasure or money. Pleasure won. Jeffs pulled her gag away so she could plead and scream, which she did to perfection as he loosed his great, greasy, hard, stinking cock and contemptuously slammed aside her maidenhead.
She cried so much afterwards that Barnes felt a need to stop the tears. She wore no lipstick, and her untutored lips and tongue were so sweet he yelled in triumph.
“We won’t lose much on her not being a virgin,” Jeffs commented. “The punters know if we’ve given an untrained girl a bit of training, she performs better for it.”
Chief Superintendent Close quickly stopped picking his nose at the sound of a rap on his office door. Not a very loud rap, he thought – a bit tentative. No doubt it was the Shepherd girl. “Come in!” he called. A smart, blonde uniformed policewoman appeared round the end of the door. He waved her in and indicated a seat, taking in her face and body as she did so. She was pretty, all right – a nice sensitive face, a natural blonde with short fine hair, firm little tits pressing at her white uniform blouse and a promising spread of hip. “Seen your new clothes?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” She seemed a little uncertain.
“Any problems with them?”
“No, Sir. Well, they are a bit revealing, but I understand we need to do that if we’re to catch this man.”
“Quite. So get changed into them for a last inspection. We can’t afford to get anything wrong if we’re to catch this bastard.” She gave him a doubtful look, perhaps wondering with justice whether this inspection really was purely for professional reasons or because her live bait get-up would turn him on; but naturally she obeyed. When she returned she was transformed. Close took his time inspecting her. On her neat little feet were white trainers with pink trim. She wore short white socks; above them, tanned legs went all the way up to – well, where any red-blooded man would want to be. Concealing that area were tight pink shorts. A plain pale yellow t-shirt completed her disguise and the tight, pointed little nipples pressing against the fabric showed she was wearing no bra. “Turn round, please,” he asked. She turned round, revealing one of the tightest, firmest, roundest little arses he’d ever seen. She was wearing knickers, he noticed: the panty-line ran right across the high points of her bottom cheeks, bisecting the beautiful orbs. “O.K. – it’ll do,” he told her, trying to sound bored. “As you know, we just have to wait now till this character grabs another girl. We have developed a picture of the kinds of area he goes to, but he could strike next anywhere in the Scottish Highlands, the Lake District, Cornwall, Oxford or Cambridge. We could send you to Snowdonia and he’d be stalking someone in York. We know he sometimes does strike twice in the same area, though, so as soon as that happens, we set you loose on your bike with your little radio and we all wait to jump on him as soon as he makes a move. It may not work, but it’s worth trying.”
“Yes, Sir. I hope – I mean – I know it’s dangerous, but if I can help catch this beast it’ll be wonderful!” He dismissed her and watched the round, taut rump parading out in the clinging hotpants. Faced with a view like that, he could almost sympathise with the villain they were trying to catch. Still, if they got the man, it would be promotion at the next chance for himself. Maybe there’d be a celebration and he could get a few drinks down Miss
Prissy PC Felicity Shepherd and then fuck the arse off her.
Nearly three weeks later Tony and Sam were cruising in the van down some Derbyshire lanes…
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