Cynthia was your typical American tourist, or unfortunately, what is often taken for the typical American. She was/is very um… outspoken, and extrem...ely loud. Anyone and everyone in that restaurant, who could vaguely understand English, soon learnt that Cynthia was a thirty-something-year-old war widow. Her husband had been one of the first US advisors to be sent out to Vietnam and he’d returned home less than two months later to claim his personal spot in Arlington cemetery. Cynthia had three. Dutifully, I did as I was told and sat propped up against the three fluffy pillows by the headboard. She artfully slid off her tiny g-string with matching eyelash trim, with one hand, whilst holding the robe closed over with the other. She got onto the bed, still wearing her stilettos. Anais knelt on the mattress and showed no indication that she was going to remove her robe. Though she was pretty in pink, I hankered to see all of her beauty. When I asked if that was possible, she questioned my. Her tight little hard,but cheeks shaking just a little each tim I rammed her. With my pressure on her lower back, the pounding I was giving her, and her writhing around, I blew. I pressed in as far as possible and just started coming. And coming. The last several spurts were dry, but the first few were enough to add some extra lube. So when the spurts quit, I started pumping again. Initially I started to lose my erection some, but was still hard enough to move in and out. While I was trying to. I donít care.I rub my forefinger around the pucker of your anus and you groan, knowing whatís coming next. I slide it in as far as I can. At the intrusion your lips tighten around my dick, almost too tight. A soft ìOw!î escapes from me. You realize what has happened and you loosen your grip. My finger is fucking you nicely when I slide up the bed a few inches and disengage my tongue from your hot hole. I replace it with two fingers of my other hand. The realization that Iím fucking both your.