He asked if my wife was on birth control, and I admitted she was not. Bill was surprised, and I could tell by the tent in his pants that he was intrig...ed. Was he imagining planting his seed in my naked wife’s fertile pussy? I explained that we used the rhythm method because she was unable to handle any hormonal birth control. Bill could sympathize, he described that his own wife, Shirley, gained so much weight on the pill that they abandoned it, and used a mix of rhythm and condoms, just as we. The first few steps made me feel suicidal, but after a few days I realised it was bearable.They had to operate on my jaw again, I came back with a long scar, they tried to do it without cutting the first time but it was not quite in line as it started to knit together.They kept my hands in plaster for months, my fingers itched unbearably, but still the cast stayed on until finally the sawed it off.My fingers were all white and puffy, the skin all disgusting where the air had not got to them but. “That’s makeup! Your Mum used a whole stack of that blush stuff on her. I suggested paint but she said this would look better.”I looked again. It really did look like a well-smacked bum – not that I’m an expert or anything. But it looked red like I imagine a bum would go after it was smacked. I reached out and ran a finger down one cheek of Tara’s bum. Tara jerked in surprise and tried to look over her shoulder at me but she didn’t say anything. I lifted up my finger and looked at it. Sure. The girl who'd comforted them smiled more broadly. She then made some strange hand signals to her companions while mouthing something while her voice made a sound her tongue couldn't articulate. The other pilgrims laughed in a good-humoured way: a way which seemed incongruous in such bizarre looking people. She then walked up to Sharon, placed a forefinger to her lips, and placed her hand on her crotch in a tender, non-threatening way."Are you gonna fucking sew me up, you bastards?" Sharon.