"Holy Mrs. Robinson, Joanna," he sputtered. "If my little love-bug had caught us -- or the Dickster!"Joanna's voice was soft and low. "They're in town... Michael, and they're not coming back for a long time. No one's going to catch us. We can do whatever we want. So what do you want to do, Michael?"He babbled in reply.Joanna took the bottom of her sweater in both hands and pulled it over her head in one fluid move. As she tossed it aside, her large breasts cradled in a silky white bra jiggled. I reached over and turned it up. ‘Wild Thing’ by The Troggs was playing, a song which was a big hit that year. Debbie and I both really liked the song. “Wild Thing. You make my heart sing. You make everything groovy.” I reached over and stroked her chin as I mouthed the words. Again, she giggled softly. After exiting Route 33, when we were well into New Jersey, we stopped at a soda fountain and shared a root beer float. I went over to the jukebox and put on ‘Wild Thing.’ As the song started to. More

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