But it looks to me like the top of a weasel’s head. I just call it that by myself.” “It’s called a cunt, Angelique. It’s a beautiful thing a...d not at all like a weasel.” I’ll call it a cunt if it pleases Father, but to myself it will still be my weasel. Weasel seems more friendly than cunt. “Do you know what it’s for, Angelique?” I know it’s for peeing and getting the curse, but I don’t think that’s the answer he wants. “I’m not sure, Father,” I say. It‘s for men, my dear. God made that for. ’ ‘That’s what you meant that day when you said we’d crossed a boundary, wasn’t it?’ Jason whispered as he ran his fingers lightly though her silky hair and held her against him. She nodded. ‘Yes…that’s what I meant,’ she whispered. ‘I…I didn’t know if you understood what I meant then but I guess you did, didn’t you?’ Trembling, Jason moved them closer to the bed, which he had dreamed of sharing with her again ever since the day he had it moved to this room. He found the prospect of seeing her. I couldn’t wait anymore. I slid my hardened cock into her, and felt her inner heat take me in, warmer even than the water that rained down upon us. I tried to stop myself from cumming, but her pussy demanded it… milking me with each stroke, her hands grasping and clawing at my back. ‘I’m cumming!’ I shouted, pulling out and spraying across her body. I felt her body arch up as she joined me in a tremendous orgasm of her own. Afterwards, we lay together in the tub, the shower still pouring down. She always drew stares from men, whether at the Country Club or from construction workers as she swayed by on her pleasant walking tours of Manhatten. One reason she had come to Haiti was to get away from the empty, yet time consuming life spent alternating between Scarsdale and their Park Avenue apartment.She pushed down the thong, revealing the slightly darker, carefully trimmed small triangle of lush fur between her thighs. White skin framed the soft hair, her only tan line. Funny, she'd.