What was that stuff coming out of your cock?" I asked even softer. He pulled my tighter to him, if that was even possible. His chest was so warm. "Tha...t was sperm, but you call it cum." He whispered against my ear, gently kissing it. "It's because... when you orgasm, you call it cumming. So... the stuff that comes out, is cum." He gently bit my ear then pulled away. I looked up at him, "Oh..." I said softly. I looked at him, just looked. "Will we do this again?" I asked, very softly, barely. I was confused and pretended not to hear her so she added, "You're a naughty man as well". No-one had likened me to my Dad before, I'd always thought we were complete opposites with nothing in common. I was feeling uncomfortable now, especially as she persisted and started asking questions. "Do you like my legs?" she asked. And then when I still didn't really answer, she said "I know you've been looking through my knickers drawer and in the wardrobe". I protested my innocence - thinking that. "What's the problem?" I asked."She's a white woman, a very white woman and probably Irish from her name," he snapped back at me."I never knew that you had a problem with the wasichu, the whites. Would it have been better if I had brought a black or a Latino with me?" I demanded back in anger."NO!" he spat back at me, "It would not have been. It would only have been better if you had arrived with a woman of the people," he continued and exhaled heavily."Things have changed in the few months that. Then I got the dogs, and that did me a whole lot of good.”What do you say to an admission like that? I’d obviously been on the right track when I’d realized that she’d been incredibly lonely, but I didn’t want to come across as patronizing of what she’d been through.There was something I could safely confess, though.I reached out over the table and took her hand. “I did the same for a while when I split with Marsha; tried to hide in a bottle. It’s not good, drinking on your own. Getting.