Are you guys from out of town?”“Yes we are. We'll be here all week working out at the airport.”“Well good. I hope to see you in here often the....” She turned and walked toward the bar. My eyes followed her swaying ass. I loved her walk away.Paul looked at me and smiled. “You hound dog you. Were you hitting on our waitress?”“Not really, but she sure has a fine ass don't you think?” I changed positions to relive the pressure my growing dick was creating between my legs.“Hell yeah. Hey Tom, if you. In previous times it had been home to farmers and watermen, people whose families had lived in the same towns for generations. These folk, called the Shoremen by their more urban cousins, were a tightly knit, church going folk. Few tourists stopped as they traveled through the Eastern Shore and life on the peninsula was largely unchanged for decades. When the Shoremen discovered that the government had planned to build a Potter Town community on the Shore, they organized and reacted quickly to. But he denies me the contact with a chortle, looking down into my passion crazed eyes, drawing his fingers over my neck and then placing them into my mouth. No longer caring that I am drinking my own blood, I eagerly suck and lick at his fingers, drawing his fingers deep into my mouth, grazing the flesh with my teeth, my moans growing more abandoned as fingers explore my aching pussy lips, the fingers sliding over the lips with ease, occasionally, teasingly sliding between, nails grazing the. “With your North European look, you can fool people, but not me. Your accent is different, and you use your hands talking.”“Nobody ever guessed where I’m from. I bet you’re not different,” she challenged me.“Italian,” I said smiling.She blushed smiling and her smile was breathtaking. She was smiling with her whole body and her eyes lit up.“Yes! How do you know? Have you ever been to Italy?”“Yes, many times. It’s one of the best places in the world, not only for the food and the history, but for.