But I knew those rules from being with you.” She paused and started more dramatically. “Then he told me I had to do a striptease for him. Like ... full one. He had on some stripper music. But I’ve never done anything like that. So I started, but I felt so goofy. I started laughing while I was trying to shake my ass and he got angry and spanked the shit out of me and told me to start over. He got so angry! So then I took it really seriously and took my clothes off and bent over a lot. I. I did as I knew, sucking on the upstrokes, stopping with the up to the rim and licking frantically. More of the rewarding juice leaked out as I felt it swim around and slip down my throat. As I did this, I would roll his proportionate balls in one of my hands as the other would stroke him. I would stop occasionally to test them out as well. I was savoring it and from his words of encouragement I was doing well. He finally pulled the stifling towel from over my head and looked down at me and. We all donned our war paint, and my wives had me decked out in that elaborate paint they had invented for me to wear against the Chiricahuas. By now, I was well enough indoctrinated into the Mescalero culture that I rather liked the show the paint made. My skin was tanned so thoroughly by this time that I looked like a Mescalero.By the way, I now had a war name: Throwing Stick.Counting myself, there were 27 men in my war party. As war chief, I was not expected to fight. Instead, I was to. After several exchanges he finished his drink, avoiding fellow work colleagues as he ventured through the party, she saw him coming but pretended not to. He moved his mouth close to her ear, they met on the balcony, alone. The first exchange was confident exciting, a rush, a thrill. He took her and gazed into her eyes, smiled softly, she bit her lip knowing what she wanted to do, but could she? She couldn't although they were alone on a balcony and if anyone was coming they would hear them. She.