I had some married men that I met online that would come see me when I was in their towns, and get some sweet head from me on their way home from work...or whatever. One of my regular hookups, named Frank, pulled into the motel parking lot late one afternoon and looked up and saw me on the balcony. I was in a mini dress; heels and all dolled up, waiting for him, but was just getting a little "exposure" time in, as I waited. When Frank came in he said that he could tell that I was into being seen. The weather and the water seemed to know this, having conspired to prolong our recent state by producing a thick milky fog that clung to the sea despite the distant glare of the rising sun. So we went out in the trusty rowboat, quiet, mostly blinded, and with the sounds of the world muted by mists.The harvesting was intimate; the fog prevented us from operating within the wide expanse of quietude we’d come to call home. Instead, it was as if only our boat and the patch of rocks and the algae. We rock backwards and forwards as he continues to hit my legs again and again with the flogger, driving Carol towards orgasm, while I struggle harder and harder to fill my lungs. It seems to take forever before she comes, grabbing my hair hard as she does, and grinding my nose and mouth even harder into her crotch. She raises herself off me, and gives me a deep wet kiss. "That was good slut," she says, and grabs my hard cock."That's enough Carol!" snaps Graham. "Now get dressed and sit down.". I got side-tracked, and ended up reading about naiads and undines. Christina was a creature of air, and earth, I concluded. The books, the philosophy … air. But her body was well-rounded, well-proportioned. She had a nice pair of B cup breasts, I guessed. It was hard to tell, because she rarely showed any cleavage, unlike Carmen or Beth. She was kind, and giving, paying the upkeep on a house so that her sister would have a place to live. And her friends all seemed to like her. There were none.