“I guess I will try and find it tomorrow,” I replied. My country girl lover replied, “If you call about ten, I can probably help you find it.” I had to laugh. “Are you that desperate?” I asked. “I might be,” she replied, propping herself up and looking at me. We dressed and we headed back to the little farm house from where we had started. “Do you want to come in and clean up?” she asked as we rolled up in front of the farm house. I told her that I’d take a glass of water and then be on my way. I followed her into the small farm house. I could hear her humming as she sauntered off into the kitchen. “So are you married?” I asked from the living room. “Kind of sorta,” she replied. “There is no such thing,” I replied. “Well, I am married, but my man travels all the time,” she replied. I understood traveling. Traveling was my specialty. She sauntered out to the living room, and handed me a glass of water. “So are you staying at the Motel Six on town?” she asked. “I’m trying for the. Except for one unfortunate instance, when we partied with my buddy Ke. When Ke threw a party, everybody came. Which is sort of where this story starts. At Ke’s party.I was standing by a keg, a red solo cup in hand, taking a swig when I saw her. My ex. Grinding her pink tube dress clad ass over some bloated juice head guys dick. Her hair was that contrived messy wavy thing that girls do, and I could see the white of her halter tan lines against her darker bronze skin. My ex flipped around, wrapped her arms around his neck and started to grind his mound into his obviously engorged cock. I tried to compare cock bulges over the distance, and thought that I outclassed him. Well I outclassed him anyway, I wasn’t a puka shell wearing douche grinding up against Hilo’s slut du jour. I slumped back against the fence and watched them dance some more. I could feel myself getting a hemi remembering our trysts fondly. The road head, the surfboard sex trick, the beach at night, the beach during the.
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