Garage

You grab the seat belt and pull it round over your large ample breasts. They're barely being held in by your cotton white shirt. The standard uniform doesn't work for everyone you think to yourself.

You plug in the belt, turn the key and start driving towards the high street.

As you pull up at the lights you sit there thinking. Left for the garage right for the spa.

Left you think to yourself, get the garage out the way and if it's late enough you might even be able to finish off at the spa later. You could do with a massage you think. Any kind of contact to be honest it's been a month since you had any action. All you have to keep you company of an evening is your tabby cat Mr Tiddles.

The lights go green and you turn left heading for the direction of the garage.