When the melody finally does grow louder, the sand has turned to rocky soil with the coconut palms giving way to tall pines. Soon, a steep and craggy hill looms into view. More like a Greek Mykonos or Hydra than French Martinique. A winding footpath leads to the crest, where there’s the flickering glow of a fire.I’m about to ask if they want to continue when I feel it. Shivers running down my spine, butterflies in my stomach, a warm tingling between my legs that has my cock slowly unfurling. It only takes one look at the gleam in the their eyes to know Gina and Wendy feel it too.We climb the hillside under soaring pines, and smaller trees that I don’t recognize, until the path brings us next to one. The trunk is ancient, gnarly and twisted with young, egg-shaped fruit hanging from the branches. Olive trees.The scent of burning wood is on the breeze. Reflected firelight dances in the upper pine branches, and we hear the crackle of flames. Overhead, a stream of red embers floats toward. I considered asking him inside but I was afraid what it would lead to. So instead I suggested that we sit on the porch swing. As we sat down I crossed my legs, knowing the top of my stocking was showing. We went back to kissing and to his credit, all he did was place his hand on the bare skin where my stocking ended. He was truly making me feel like a woman rather than just a piece of meat.I noticed the bulge in his pants and I knew the minute he got home he'd be jerking off. I wondered how many times the poor k** had jerked off with thoughts of me. He was going to wind up getting blisters on his palm. I looked across the street and the only house that the people inside could see up was old man Perkins and his house was always dark by nine.I could have lied to myself, blaming it on the wine but I knew I wasn't drunk, but still I slid off the swing and knelt in front of Ponte. His leg was shaking when I undid the button on his pants and he was already breathing heavily by the time I.
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