After saying goodbye to Katie, she contacted the British High Commision in Zambekia and alerted them to the possibility that a British subject was in rebel captivity. Fat lot of help they'll be, was her thought - Harriet might still be alive, but she might just as well be dead. The poor girl would rot in that hell for years, if not for ever, as far as orthodox means of securing her release were concerned. The government were totally bogged down in their fight to eradicate the rebellion - never in a million years were they ever likely to rescue her - and these rebels refused to deal or negotiate with any one, even if HMG were in the business of paying ransoms - which they very definitely weren't.And then a name occured to her of one person who had been useful in the past and might be able to help in this matter. She picked up the scrambler phone. ... Gwendoline returned home after her visit to Katie more convinced than ever that diplomatic efforts to get Harriet freed were worse than. He took her hand and guided her to the bed. He took her towel from her and laid her across the foot of the bed on her back. Naked, sweaty, and sore, she felt him run his fingers along her thighs, and then lift them, stretching them toward her. He gently pushed them back, further and more, toward her perky tits. Her honeycomb hideout was freshly shaved and she saw him look at her as he cocked her legs open, stretching her hamstring by leaning gently in with his body weight. This pressure made her feel him hardening up, and his feel made her moan. This made him press himself further against the soft, fat lips of her slit. She ground back against her husband, looking at his eyes as he concentrated on hers. She did not see his hand vanish, but when it reappeared, then she noticed it. And as she thought about it more, she felt the smooth muscles of his dick touch her slippery hideout, as he leaned in. Her smile let him know she liked being stretched after a workout. Her husband's.
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