It was difficult work to make a living as a fishermen on the Irrawaddy these days, or anywhere else in Burma for that matter, but somehow U Tha manage..., just as his father before him had. The trick, he always told his neighbors, was to get up early, so that you could check your fishing lines before the oppressive tropical heat became too unbearable. As he came to a calm area near the bank, he began to do just that. U Tha had only found this particular spot a couple months ago, but he found that. I couldn’t resist another flirt.I walked over to where he was standing and opened the refrigerator door. “Is there any breakfast?” I stepped back and bent over appearing to check the drawers. I felt my ass touch his cock.“Oh, yogurt, okay if I have one?”“Sure, sure” he mumbled as I pulled off the top and licked it seductively. I found a teaspoon and quickly ate the yogurt.“This is good, come on, have the last mouthful.” I moved up against him and fed him a spoonful, my breasts brushing his arm.. I did a quick survey of myself. My arm was sore, discolored, bruises beginning to form. There was another area on the outside of my thigh. I don't remember that. Probably from the kicking when I grabbed him.I touched my cheek tenderly. This was going to be the visible one, red, puffy now. When it turned blue...I heard the 'whoop' of a police siren. At least I'd had the forethought to pull on my pants.A knock at the open door. "Police!" Come in," I said.The first of two officers entered, warily. It was obvious there was nothing underneath it with no signs of a bra or panty lines. We were a little early since we were actually on time (swingers apparently show up late to things) so they showed us around a little. They had everything set up such that all of the fun would take place in the basement away from prying eyes. There was the main room with chairs for socializing, a pool table, and drinks laid out. Then there were two different rooms for sex. They had one room where there.