an old airport hanger at an almost forgotten private airstrip in a rural area, miles from the city;
Deathmaster was waiting for her as she entered the dark and foreboding rusted metal building. But the man was a fat, greasy slob of a man who would not attract a woman, she thought. The adrenalin rush brought on by the deadly situation in which they were finding themselves was almost too much for her. His cock remained hot and hard in her, but he seemed to be holding his own. She knew he was too. But there was a constant vibration of the aircraft and that old Whitney-Hughes engine that would not allow them to remain completely still. He was staring back with wide, frightened eyes. And there were other men, one obviously a pilot and the other .
