The realization that the man was actually European rather than a native of the local area came when he attempted to communicate with me in Spanish and...not the lingo of the Indian tribes. I am ashamed to relay that my two years of Spanish in high school was quite lacking in the skill I needed to converse fluently but I made an attempt and the poor man was so delighted that he kissed me quite thoroughly on the lips using the French technique of pushing his juicy tongue inside to duel with my own. Just the day before I had been openly masturbating in my yard only to look up and see whom I assumed was Sally’s husband watching me, cock out, from the windows directly facing my house. Not only was it mortifying, it might have been the single most scintillating experience of my life. Something about it, him watching me spray that water hose on my swollen nipples, pulling my bikini bottoms to the side…I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind. What he had seen. My red lips, my fingers grazing. More

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