"What did you expect?. Yes… I am so wet, because my husband had not fucked me properly during many, many days…”I grabbed her leg and rammed my s...lid cock hard into her."Oh my…That’s what I was missing. You are much bigger than my husband and always fuck me harder than him…" She cried close to my ear…I began to build up a steady rhythm as I pumped my hard cock in and out of her wet and now stretched wild cunt.Helena kissed me deeply and soon she was having her first orgasm."Oh, fuck… I'm. I was so nervous, but I was determined to look my best. I wore a black lace thong, black bra, garterbelt, thigh high stockings, four inch heels and a little black dress. I put on a long sexy wig and did my makeup beautifully. The night before, I had done my nails and toes in a pretty dark pink color. I sprayed some Victoria's Secret perfume, and I was ready to go. We had a lovely dinner at the restaurant, and John was a gentleman the whole time. He asked if I'd like to come back to his place,. Put me right. Tell me about the lake and about Isabelle. Tell me your side of the story."So I told her.I told her about the woman who'd stayed overnight at the tumbledown convent a short distance from the village. I told her about how she'd had dark brown hair, eyes the color of green grass and lips like the summer bougainvillea, and Christine was immediately enthralled. When I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, she begged me to continue."Don't stop," she urged, pulling her arms from. She turned away from the ocean, feeling sad about what she had been forced to do so far.“Hey, Babe, do you surf?”“A little,” Betsy answered.She turned to examine the young man standing next to her. He was deeply tanned with the long, lean build of a swimmer. He was wearing baggy shorts, a loose tee-shirt, and sandals. His sandy brown hair was sun bleached. He was gazing out at the ocean with a far away look in his eyes. Everything about his appearance screamed: ‘surfer.’“The surf will be.