One final movement, and Sarachan was buried deep inside Brentt, motionless again. Bark splintered under Brentt's fingers. Copper blossomed in his mout... as his teeth broke the skin of his lip. His shoulderblades stood out from his back, tendons making hard ropes under his skin. For the first time, Brentt heard Sarachan breathe. "Brennnntt..." Sarachan hissed, as he began to move his hips, driving himself deeper. Brentt found himself pushed against the tree, his back arched so his chest was flat. I wanted to taste Anne but was painfully aware of the other bathers. I suggested that we separately go to the hotel's poolside toilet and shower block (dressed to look like a Madeiran Santana house). I was so hard I had to disguise my erection with a towel. It was a joy to watch Ann nonchalantly sliding her costume back into place (the black material showed a few creamy flecks of her juices on the edges) and walk round the k**ney shaped pool, past the bar and straight into the smallish. More

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