‘You carry family, I carry you.’ And he did, through great halls and subterranean passages. Peter’s eyelids grew heavier and when we reached the...car he slept. He slept all the way back home and he slept back some of his strength. The backseat of the car hummed with love and softly spoken Arabic. My love for Peter, palely sleeping beside with all his fragile strength, was humming along too. Once again he had stepped up and done what had to be done and paid the price. At last we were home and. When his lyric was conveyed from his laptop along with the software-generated symphonic orchestration to his hundreds of millions of downloaders, he knew that a little word like that could propel it into the international chart of the top one hundred tunes for that particular week. And the more downloads the greater the trickle of revenue into his credit account. A million hits translated into a million English pounds. And that would be enough to just about cover a week's rent for his crappy. The music was loud but I swear I heard her moan.As she bit her lip, I slowly pushed her panties to the side and slid my finger across her slit. Her thighs clamped down on my hand, forcing me to be rougher and go deeper into her. Still grinding on me, her hand went behind her back and started rubbing my big hard dick through my pants.Fuck, that feels amazing.I didn’t want her to stop. I got even harder.I could feel her chest breathing faster as I spread her pussy lips apart and teased her clit. I shrugged my shoulders and laughed. The girl and Laura followed suit. At least humour and mutual incomprehension transcended our language barrier. “I should continue picking,” said the girl, pointing to the line of empty baskets. “Ah well maybe we could help seeing as we’ve held you up,” I said. She smiled and accepted our offer. “I’m Danny by the way and this is Laura.” “I’m Fiammetta, but everyone knows me as Feemi.” So there we were half way up a hill somewhere in Sardinia picking figs. Now.