Two hours. Two hours, tacking about every fifteen minutes, say. I, for one, breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the green conical buoy that indi...ated we could bear away on port tack, heading for the Heybridge sailing club; two miles of uninterrupted reaching.Not wanting to spend time on mud, or bump a moored boat, I insisted on motoring down Colliers Reach, past Heybridge, but we were able to sail again past Herrings point. We had to use the 'iron sail' again for the half mile alongside. For sure. Well…. I gotta go. Maybe if you and Kirk do it tonight we can all get together every day after school until Mr. C. gets home from his trip. I'd love it, and I know Kirk would, too, Mrs. C. Well… thanks for all the sex. I loved it. Goodbye. Hope to see you again soon."And then he left. Chapter 2. Fucking My SonAfter Jason left I remade the bed and thought about what he had told me. My pussy was still wet and quivering, and as I reflected on what Jason and I had done, and what. I put my right hand on her left hand and caressing her. She was getting excited. I can notice her hard nipples from her top.She drove the car in one narrow pathway. She stopped the car in one bush. As soon as she turned off the car, I grab her head and kissed her. She was also responding to my kiss. We did tongue to tongue and exchanged saliva. She was too horny at that time, pulling my hairs and kissing very fast. Her juicy lips. We kissed 15 min. She was too hot.She: hardik, I want your hard. One of these younger reporters moonlighted periodically for The Beat magazine, probably just using the side-job as an excuse to hang out with jazz musicians downtown. Pete Elliot, writer and jazz enthusiast became my best friend at the paper, and often dragged me to smoky clubs, where stereotypical skinny men with goatees and berets hung out with statuesque brunettes with long long cigarette holders. Everyone dressed in black turtlenecks. I didn't get it.Neither did the real musicians.Pete and.