His name was Hal, and he was a broad shouldered guy with long, wavy strawberry blond hair tucked under his Peterbilt ball cap, red and black flannel s...irt, and blue jeans that could barely contain a fine looking ass and prominent bulge in the crotch. He was about 40 years old, give or take. We sat at the counter, me, Uncle Jake, Hal and a brown haired kid of about 25 sitting on the stool on the other side of Hal, but not with our little conversing group. But, it was obvious he was listening in. I grabbed on to the back of her head and kept her sliding down my shaft. She worked on my knob for what must have been twenty minutes. I was having trouble staying standing, and I could feel my semen boiling up.“I’m there.” Sandy took the cue and released me from her mouth. I reached and gave my sack a bit of a squeeze to hold myself off and come back down a little. I turned around and lifted the door to the tent, motioning for Sandy to go inside. She crawled in and I hopped in right after. She gave me coffee which she prepare only for me since north Indian peoples won’t drink coffee. After having the coffee she sat in front of me with a chair and in between us there was only a small stool. We started to take notes. Suddenly the child cried due to hungry. She told me to take notes alone and gone inside to give milk to her child. With in 5 to 10min she came back. But she doesn’t notice that she have not closed her front zip in her night. By without knowing she came in front of me. "Jesus, Cammy! Why did you do that?" I glared at her, my annoyance at having to spend time cleaning up overcoming any embarrassment."I could see you were nervous," she said, giggling again. "You wouldn't want to be fighting it all night, right?' Her eyes dropped. "Besides, it was so cool; your bell tinkles when you tinkle!"It was hard to stay upset at somebody who was so irrepressibly upbeat. That still left the floor, but I realized the solution to that problem was staring me right in the.