“I’m curious. Which does he like better ... my hand, mouth, or pussy?”I smiled contemplating her unexpected question. “He thinks it’s a toug... choice,” I said honestly. “I guess it depends on which is closer,” I laughed. “Actually,” I continued, “my Dad and I were talking last night and I was surprised to learn that my Mom never goes down on him.”“What do you mean?” she asked with a furrowed brow.I soon realized that the expression “going down on somebody” wasn’t a familiar part of Erika’s. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. I looked at the beach and the waves crashing against the sand. My mind was still somewhere in the forest with him. We ended up staying there for well over an hour last night. By the time I asked him if we were going back to the shelter we made, we were both all wrinkled up from the warm water of the pool. The walk back was uncomfortable to say the least. We didn’t say anything to each other while he helped me limp back. I was really tired and. More

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