A few years back, I found myself the subject of the affections of a real life Amazon ! She was the owner of a magnificent rack which seemed always to be just at eye height, (but then they always do,) and a touch off 6'6" She was immediately christened Big Bertha - but only because of her height as she had the toned bod of an athlete. I was fuffed to chuck with this doris ! A fit bint, very much into sports & healthy living, she didn't take the pill on the grounds of not wanting to interfere with the chemical balance of her body, but having the morals of a rabbit on Mandrax was rather inventive on the subject of 'emergency contraception.' This became evident to me one night on the wazz when she put me under her arm and strode into the alley beside a nightclub for a kneetrembler. As she dropped her drawers, (wonderful girl, always wore stockings & suspenders,) I told her that I didn't have any rubbers as that was a woman's job. She thought for a second then said, "No problems young Cuts, hop up on that beer crate" I happily obliged and we were soon engaged in some vertical entertainment of the squelchy kind. I didn't know what she had in mind at the time, to be honest I wasn't even thinking about the surroundings as I humped away like a belt-fed WOMBAT. However she quite obviously knew exactly at what stage in the proceedings we'd got to, because as I reached the vinegar strokes and my eyes started to roll back the bitch kicked the damn crate out from under me ! I dropped like I'd stepped out of the balloon cage and dumped my custard across the nightclub brickwork whilst performing an impromptu side left. Not exactly the warm pulsating crescendo I'd been expecting. The look in Bertha's eyes said everything, I'd just been appointed i/c johnny procurement ! There are worse jobs I suppose.