Slipping my hand between us, I stroke your cock, as the head remains hidden inside. Sliding my fingers back up, through my juices, I trace your lips w...th my finger as I sink back down on your cock, burying you once again in the dark, hot, cunt. You taste my passion on your lips, as I raise myself up once again. This time, I lower myself, harder and faster. Your hands are on my hips, fingers digging into the flesh, helping me raise and lower myself upon you. Your head leans over and takes a. But I couldn't cover everything up.I assumed, correctly, that she mostly just needed company and a shoulderto cry on. Of course when she saw me she couldn't help but express herdisapproval of the new flower design I had recently had tattooed on myneck. She shook her head and said, "Honey, what are you going to do whenyou run out of bare skin?"Actually, that was pretty mild for her. She must have been more worriedabout the mammogram than she was letting on. If she wasn't expressing. I got naked, oiled up my hard cock and stepped outside wearing nothing but a pair of small, thick rubberbands on my smooth shaven balls. (A girlfriend who like to play rough had taught me to like a little squeezing action.) I kicked back naked in a lounge chair and began to slowly massage my slick, swollen meat and tightly bound balls. With one eye on the opposite building, I edged myself to the brink and back several times over half an hour. It was just me, a slight breeze, and the crickets —. “Michelle decided to leave the monastery,” I said. “Let me talk with Kara and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”I quickly washed the dishes, grabbed my bag, and then Kara and I went up to our room.“Did you know she was going to do this?” Kara asked the second I shut the door to our room.I shook my head gently, “No. I had no idea. Not even a clue. You’ve seen her postcards. That’s the only communication I’ve had with her. But the more I think about it, the more I realize this was a likely.