‘Please let me treat tonight. I’m not a pauper and I’d appreciate it.’ ‘Sure, Tim. Thank you.’ The man had his pride and Philip admired th...at. ‘Tough day?’ ‘Yeah, a bit. Kinda hard to focus on work after the night I had but let’s wait until we’re seated to talk about it.’ They waited for a table, their reservation having been mishandled, and at the bar Philip ordered a Makers Mark while Tim got a beer. By silent agreement they kept their conversation light. Ten minutes later, at the table, Tim. The questioning was good-natured, but thorough. I talked about conditions in Afghanistan and Iraq, without discussing any of what I did while I was there. One of the younger cousins began to ask a question about who I killed when Mr. Montoya interrupted him."Hector, that is no topic for the dinner table," he reprimanded."Si Abuelo," the boy said, head down."Besides, I am sure that Mr. James is not allowed to talk too much about what he did, isn't that true?" That's right," I said. "I'm sorry,. Our bodies resonated as did the bathroom wall with our joint groans as the last pleasure waves were washing over us. I was shaking still and my pussy was twitching against his cock as he leaned to kiss my back and rest his wet forehead against it for a brief moment. I felt him sliding his thumb out of my butt and heard the shower drop to the floor inside the cabin, slithering from the strong jet only to settle in a corner. His arms wrapped over me and he set himself down taking me with him. I. I brought the bra back to my bed and then slowly rubbed it against my left breast. Why didn't I do this earlier you may ask? The answer is simple . . . fear. At first, all I felt was the soft material, but after a few minutes I noticed that my breasts were getting hard and my nipples began to stick straight out. 'For crying out loud this feels good,' I thought to myself. I continued to rub my breasts for several minutes more before forcing myself to stop. I put the bra away and went back.