A little lube would benefit them both. He pushed the well lubed digit into her ass and heard her squeal. That abused hole was protesting his fingers....She was open wide enough for his cock. Pulling his hand free of her ass, he was satisfied with the gaping hole. She was loose enough that he could see the pink flesh inside. Pulling her down in the water, she was impaled on his long, thick cock. The water was perfect for fucking her ass. No gravity meant easier positions. Holding her hips, they. And squeeze into them he did, and not without someconsiderable effort. He had joked in the past about girls wearing jeansso tight that they must have jumped off the wardrobe into them to getthem on. He worried he might have to do that himself, but in the end hemanaged to get his hot-pants buttoned and zipped up. He marvelled at howhis hot-pants seemed to make his crotch even flatter if at all possible,and he couldn't help but admire the contrast they made against thecolour of his sheer. They were like the bodies of the women for me, I always felt I had been hugging a woman whenever I held mom’s saree or a bra. Those days I was growing to become an adult from the boy I was.But soon I started getting the images of my own mom whenever I held her cloth. However much I tried to brush aside the thoughts of her ample breasts dangling between her saree pallu, just as casually as she left them visible at home, would come into my my mind. I always debated about the righteousness of this. I asked if he found her attractive. He said she was beautiful, not like a lot of French women who can be very fussy about designer clothes and make up, just naturally beautiful. Again, he was very polite.I told him we liked to go to nude beaches and I liked seeing other people checking her out. He said "I know, I saw you two fucking near the opera house in the middle of the day, there were tourists filming you. I saw you, so you knew people were watching?" Now he knew he didn't have to be so.