“Bitch,” she murmured, “Eat my nasty asshole, bitch. Get up in there...Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Emma came hard, her anal sphincter tightening on... my tongue as her body wreathed with pleasure. She reached behind her and grabbed my hair, holding my face in her ass until she stopped cumming. Then she tossed my head aside like she was throwing out the trash.“Now be a good bitch and go away Alejandro.” She started to get up from the chair. I pushed her back, holding her with one hand between her. The teens at the beach were playing a game called 'treenuthunt.' Very little was poisonous, dangerous or deadly ... the boys ... and girls, gathered ... tree nuts today ... sun fruit tomorrow ... sweet-reeds had been done yesterday. But it wasn't work ... it was 'game.' Sure, things got taken home, cooked and eaten, but it was fun. The only work was trying to impress the opposite gender. That was work!Everyone shared. For a lesson in patience you couldn't do better than watching the oldest boys. . not fast driving. On the bike it was enjoyable, actually. But Great Uncle Jeremiah’s house was even more off the beaten track. There is a minor road which runs down the east side of Coniston Water, passing John Ruskin’s house, Brantwood. Sensible visitors call at Brantwood from the lake, after a ride in the steam yacht Gondola which calls at the Brantwood pier.Woodside House is south of Brantwood, set back from the road up a narrow gravel track, which has a five-barred gate to discourage. The weather is supposed to be nice. Take me out on your boat for the day, I'll make sure you keep your space in the harbor. I'll bring lunch and I know a great place where we can have it." she said. "Best offer I've had today," I said. All year, no doubt, I thought. The following morning Georgina appeared as agreed. She had gotten her neighbor to take my place with his fishing boat until we returned. I love resourceful people, especially when they come in such awesome packages. Georgina was.