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There wasn't one person, but two. But who? It was still too dark for her to see who the two were. But unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, the couple was stark naked. Who?It couldn't be Bret and Karen. Despite her brother's attempt to hide the fact he was balling their stepcousin, Linda knew all about his affair with Karen. The young brunette and Linda were very close and Karen shared all her secrets. However, Linda had left Karen sleeping soundly in their tent. Who could it be?The couple's identity intrigued her. Obviously it had to be either Aunt Mona and Frank, though she found it hard to visualize those two ever sleeping together, let alone screwing around in the woods, or it had to be her parents. Her parents? Yes, she could see both of them doing something like this.But should she be spying on them? No, she decided, but she intended to do it just the same. The thought of watching her mother and father together did more than just stir her interest. She wanted to see. Normally when we had sex, it was making love, gentle. This time I decided it would be different. I reached down and began to grope her. Grabbing her tits, rubbing her legs, playing with her pussy. After a few minutes, I undid her bra and grabbed one of her tits, pinching and tweaking the nipple hard, bending over I sucked on one of her nipples and then bit it, something I had never done before. I kept working her tit and nipple and then I reached down to her pussy and shoved two fingers in her. In the past, I might have stuck a finger in as a I ate her out but it was always a slow, easy motion. This time I started to finger fuck her, two then three and eventually four fingers. I started to suck on her tits again, giving her a few hickies in the process, again something neither of us had done before. Rising up, I continued working my fingers into her pussy, pushing hard. My wife was moaning now, ‘Oh fuck, yeah’. My ex never swore. I stuck a finger into her mouth and she started to.
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I had cadged a flight on a news helicopter with a photographer who had done the photo work for several of my wine articles—not his usual line of work, but as a favor to me. We would be making low and high level flights over the devastation zone, and would land on a hill about a half-mile from of where the clinic had stood. I resolved to move on, and try to invent a new life without the sweet girl that had meant so much to me since that kiss in the rain fifteen years ago.The flight was a combination of catharsis and confusion. From high above it was beautiful in a way, majestic in the sheer size of the flood of mud. As we flew low over Yungay, my friend waved his hand at what had been a moderate sized city. "There were twenty-five thousand people living here. They have found ninety-two survivors. Most of these were on a slightly higher part of town where the cemetery and stadium were located." Neither of us could find a possible remark on the horror of that.We parked on the hill, and.

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