As I continue to rub soap across Stacy’s back and ass I slide my other hand between her legs and lightly touch her pussy. She lets out a gasp and st...rts moving her hips back and forth against my hand. My fingers are pushed between the silky folds of her pussy and feel how hot and wet she is inside. While this is happening, my arm is around her body as my hand is caressing the perfect breasts that sit at attention on her glistening body. The attention to her nipples and pussy brings a low. A small red brick building with aslar decorations and a fake half-timbered gable, they were the archytypal "cottage" - a true indication of the origin of the camp phrase of "cottaging"! The ladies facilities were rarely used and did not have soap or even lavatory paper. Any women with an eye for hygiene would make the five minute walk to the main gate. Attached and equally well hidden was the gents lavatory. There were three urinals and two cubicles with floor to ceiling doors. The first. At least we were not in Indonesia where it has been estimated almost ninety percent of the population had been "neutralized." Even now I feel like I should be feeling horror over the virtual extermination of millions maybe even billions of human beings but I cannot; the numbers are too large for me to fathom. Daniel once told me, "The death of one is a tragedy, a million a statistic and a billion is a trend." He admitted it wasn't original with him but it still rings of sad truth. To feel for. So tired she just stopped having sex with me. Months pass and I finally see her attitude pick up and a smile on her face. I was thinking that maybe that evening I’d be getting lucky but close to the end of the Friday work day she sent me a text and asked if it would be ok if she went out for drinks with some of the girls from work. Sure, why not was my response. “I love you and I’ll see you when you get home.” She giggled and hung up. The hours pass and I begin to fall asleep on the couch. It’s.