Usually the elders stayed up late trying to listen for the familiar sounds of the virgins entering the maturity of womanhood.The day after the wedding...was the true test of inner strength for any tribal warrior or woman. It was the custom for all true warriors to have tattoos put on their chest, arms and sometimes on their face depending on the warrior's status. The man, who showed no pain when the tattoos were cut into his flesh, would bring honor to his entire family. The tattoos were not like. I drew little circles around it, faster and faster, and then brought both thumbs to bear, not touching it, but pressing from either side. At last I moved down, relinquishing her breasts and leaving a straight line of spit down her body. I prised her lower lips apart with my thumbs and savoured the heavy, heady aroma of her. I kissed her button once, twice, three times, and marked out all the outline of her sex with my tongue, before pushing it into her. A tremor ran through her as I began to. Both when my brothers were around and when her friends were around, mother had gotten in the habit of saying, “Debbie, show us your target. What this meant was just awful for me.Under the threat of even worse punishment if I didn’t obey, “show me your target” meant I had to take off everything I was wearing below my waste, panties or shoes and socks or half slips or whatever, and I had to hold up anything else, like a dress, that might block anyone’s view. Then when my bottom was totally on. My husband told me that he was stroking his cock. I could hear the slap of his efforts.“I want to feel it in me,” I said, looking straight into Bobby’s eyes.I put a finger to my lips to make sure Bobby remained silent. He smiled as he stood and pushed his shorts to the floor. His massive cock stood hard and proud, bobbing with each heartbeat. He stepped forward and I took him into my mouth and moaned loudly. My husband did the same, thinking I was masturbating along with him.Bobby gently.