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Mustang Sally

It was hellishly hot, the wind made a halfhearted effort to blow the dust from around Sally's feet but the effort was too much and the dust scarcely lifted. Five kilometers down the road Sally had abandoned her car, water pump failure, shit, on this Godforsaken stretch of road of all places. No one ever drove alone here, the only reason she had come this way was because the distance was shorter.

Sally stood at the railing overlooking the valley, she was at a point where vehicles could pull off and take photos of the breathtaking view. If it wasn't so hot, the view would have been beautiful but right now Sally just wanted a lift to the nearest town, book into a hotel, shower and an ice-cold beer.

Her thin cotton dress whispered around her slightly less than slender calves, her petticoat had been pulled off after the first one hundred meters of walking and Sally knew that the thin fabric was transparent, her black lacey French knickers would be pretty visible to anyone driving past, she didn't care. Sally reached behind her and unclasped her bra, twisting and contorting she worked the uncomfortable thing off and placed it in her bag. That's better; her full breasts were now comfortable, their firm rounded spheres pressed outward against her white cotton shirt. The shape of her dark nipples were visible against the fabric, it felt good. Sally was proud of her tits, she loved to ...

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