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Hearing from Steve I wonder is he mad or....

Perhaps to emphasize that point, or those points, she had tied the shirt above her navel, not only making it form fitting but displaying well tanned well toned abs, which disappeared into shorts so tiny they could have substituted for a string bikini, if they were not khaki twill.

Barry wondered whether he out to stray behind to see just how tender her care might be.

"We'll do the Over the Peak Challenge route," the guide announced. "In addition to the exercise, it has a great view from the top, more species to spot and will get us all into a draw for an all expenses paid white-water rafting weekend."

This drew groans and muttering from the crowd, and several people peeled away in search of easier routes, but Barry remained. To his surprise, so did the rednecks.

Within a few minutes, Barr's group was enclosed in dense brush, separated from the rest of the hikers. The group was strung out due to the narrow trail, clumping together only in the odd clearing, where the guide would expound on. Barry overheard them chatting.

"I'd like to go rafting with that cunt," one said. "She'd look really fine all wet. And maybe I'd half drown so she'd hafta give me mouth to mouth."

"The sweeper? Yeah, she's sweet. But I think she's Rex's personal assistant. Very personal if you know what I mean. I think he just put her with the common folk so that she's not in Lola's way."

"Or in his way with Lola."

Just then, a helicopter zipped overhead. One of the rednecks chuckled. "I bet that's our Rex getting a mile high hummer right now."

"I wonder if she titfucks first?"

"You'll never find out."

Both guys found each other so funny that they convulsed with more belly wobbling laughter.

Disgusted, Barry dropped back to avoid overhearing more of their conversation. The group stretched out more as the trail climbed more steeply and the guide paused less often. Although the beer bellied pair were huffing for breath, Barry purposely trailed even further back. Eventually, they were barely in sight ahead of him, and only the sweeper was behind him.

In order to make his distancing appear natural, Barry made a point of stopping every few hundred yards to admire a plant, or to simply turn and take in the exquisite view over the valley. Though Barry had seldom ventured far from his computer in recent years, it struck him how much greener and more lush the land was the further away it was from the WGC complex.

The sweeper came up to Barry several times. Although she was polite, after two or three attempts to urge Barry to go faster, she was clearly exasperated with his slow pace. Perhaps her suggestion that Barry ought to have set out with the 'newbie road side flatland march' would have been more convincing if Barry had been paying attention to her words, rather than staring at how her sweat stained T-Shirt was melted to her braless breasts. With each word, she breathed and her nipples rose beneath Barry's gaze.

"Look, I really think you should go back, but I'll get in trouble letting you go alone. I just don't want to be held back," she said. Her sigh lifted her tits higher, as if they might burst out of the fabric.

"You'll really slow us down as we reach the peak," she continued, her eyes now registering the fact that she knew where Barry was staring. She sighed again, her hair glistening in the bright sunshine as she shook her head. "Look, our guide is my boyfriend. But he just found out that I've been giving Rex blow jobs, so I'm afraid if he gets to the rendezvous before me, he might do something awful."

"Like confront Rex?"

She laughed, entertaining Barry's eyes with how her nipples bounced, barely contained in her shirt, seemingly rotating in opposite directions. 'Is that even possible?' Barry wondered, making a mental note to do field studies, but admitting to himself instantly that he lacked study subjects, so would just have to Google the question.

"Not likely.

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