I got up and wandered around, back past the gay theater to the she-male room. There were more guys in there, but they weren’t really up to much. I m...de my way to a decent looking, middle aged guy on a sofa. He was stroking with his pants at his ankles. My kind of guy (neither of my first two contacts had enough going on to pull even a limp cock out of their pants.) I sat next to him in obvious violation of the six-foot rule and pushed my pants down as far as they would go. I reached over and. " I bit my lip; if I had known the girls were going to lie in the sun I would have brought my book, but Sandy must have read my mind as she putted her hand on my bare knee. "If you don't mind?" Errr ... no," I muttered before I thought, gazing into her pleading eyes. She thanked me, by patronisingly patting me on the thigh and put the last of her rubbish in the picnic bag, before turning away from me. I wondered about stretching my legs for an hour while Sandy and Belle improved their tan, but. I noticed his eyes bulging out when he saw my wife’s sexy cleavage and I felt aroused. I asked him whether he head ever seen a blue film and he said only once before. I asked him if he’d like to see one, and he shyly agreed (he was drunk). I switched on my DVD showing scene of hot love making and asked him if he didn’t mind my wife watching the film along with us. He said that he didn’t mind and greedily agreed.I asked my wife to sit between both of us then while the movie played on. The air. Looking out over the sun dappled surface of the pine-needled forest floor, I could see there were more depressions signaling more holes. A looker wouldn’t see them ... but an observer would notice right off; something was backfilled here. The blanks on the pine forest floor told me right off that the holes weren’t backfilled artifact diggings. No pot hunter would up and leave those blanks. Besides, most pot hunters don’t backfill ... they are as messy as it gets. Archaeological sites are a.