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I’ll throw it over the tractor wheels and seat, and you can pee under there, he replied. He grabbed the tent by one corner and started to drag it over toward the tractor. “Maybe he’s not such a Bodine after all,” she thought. What she said was, “Thanks. That will have to do, I guess. Turn your back, if you don’t mind. There are some things a lady likes to keep private.” “Okay,” he said. With his back to her he went on. “Sister of a friend of mine when we were kids used to say, “If they haven’t seen it before, they won’t know what it is. And if they have, they’ll understand.” Isolde came out from beneath the tent. “Who was your friend?” she asked in what she hoped sounded like a casual tone. “Oh, a guy I went to school with. We used to play ball in the afternoons. His sister would steal his Playboy magazines out from under his bed while we were out playing. He knew it had to be her, ‘cause she never put them back in the right order, and if it would have been his mom messing with. She smelt like cocoa butter, and her skin was hot from the sun. Sand sprinkled her skin and his. His black skin showed the white sand easier, and it shook off some as he flipped her over into the missionary. Her legs shook in space as her pounded her, and her moans wafted over the air mixed with the caw of seagulls and the crash of the ocean. The crash of the ocean was his guide, and he used its rhythm and could feel her tighten and squeeze as she came. Her stomach muscles were sore and she was dizzy. She got on all fours and he mounted her high, pushing his entire 8 inches in her. She could feel him in her stomach. He grinded her while she played with her pussy. He thought he could hear talking, but combined with the ocean noise he wasn't sure. He began to fuck her harder, and her face fell into the blanket and she screamed out a huge orgasm, her pussy ejecting his dick with the force. He looked over and saw a couple coming up the beach. They were pointing and shouting. Jules.
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