My cock pulsing, eyes still closed, the water washing over me as waves of pleasure flowed through me. I gathered my senses a bit, and staggered forwar..., turning around to let the water stream over my back. As I did, cock still in hand, I caught a glimpse in the lightly steamy mirror. A figure, in a blue bikini, stood in the doorway. I caught my breath and looked a second time to the mirror, but she was not there. Had I imagined it? Was it all in my head? I had been quite overtaken by the power. Their driver was an elderly local Rastafarian with long dreadlocks. He looked over the pretty white American women with a practiced eye. He knew why they were here. The old Jamaican just wished that he was about twenty years younger so that he could 'enjoy' some of their lovely womanly charms. Now, he was like the old dog that could no longer even chase cars. He used to even remember what to do with them when he caught them.Now Joe's big, ole black pecker was good for only one thing; peeing.. More

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