You are soaking wet. I can smell your arousal, and there is no hint of cum. Why aren't you turning? Can't you tell there is a strange cock about to en...er you, about to fill you with another man's cum? My jogging shorts threaten to rip from the strain. I push them down and my cock springs free, as I gently tickle your clit with my fingers. I shift a little closer, my unprotected cock waving in the open sunshine. It brushes your hip, and you wiggle your hips against it, searching for it. You moan. But she did – easily! How it was that when I had no memory of any of you here, I was able to write such a letter? I assume I signed it. Have you seen my signature since I've been able to write?"I got some paper and a pen, wrote my name and slid it over to him.Peter sighed, "It was a forgery."I smiled. Nothing more was said. There was nothing more to say, but as they were leaving Greta as usual hugged me, and Peter shook my hand.They left and Jenny gave me a hug."Very restrained," she smiled,. Her mouth opened again her lips wet her eyes tight shut in concentration. "Ah, ahh, ahh!"He held the arch of her back with one hand pulling her slightly from the wall her tits rising towards his neck. His other hand he gripped a big handful of ass flesh helping support her as he fucked harder and faster, her wet hole squelching legs starting to weaken around his waist. The truck driver was a good family man, always sent his money home, always polite to the gringos. But this bitch had pushed him. When I see the young ones, with the sweat from the plastic cups of their iced lattes dripping onto their crossed tanned legs, I feel him pushing my thong down my hips. I feel the elastic peeling down my ass crack, I feel the fabric slide down my knees and I step out. Naked. Ready. And I always push it away, bite my lips, and keep walking. I ache in my very soul to hear the sounds of male laughter, to feel a drunken finger push my hair out of my face, then hook my chin and pull me in. The one.