"You're funny," she said.In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.Her musical giggle followed me."Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have... another happy day."The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying. Gradually I eased further and further into her. Pumping gently when I sensed she could tolerate it, holding back when she tensed and growled. Slowly I could begin to fuck her incredibly tight asshole.Initially it was slow strokes of the first few inches of my cock, pushing in and pulling out in a gentle rhythm. As her breathing eased I began feeding her more and more of my cock, listening to the delightful guttural grunts as the occasional forceful thrust pushed a little too far into her.Slowly. I made a pot of tea and they sat and talked about gardening mainly. i sat quietly as i knew i should. Mona who sat on the sofa next to me would rub my leg at times and smile.Suddenly, out of the blue, “Do you still want to go to the toilet?” i was startled.“Oh. Yes Sir.”“Well go upstairs to the bathroom and wait for me.”“Thank you Sir.”i felt very foolish being told to go and wait for you regarding going to the toilet but i needed to go and it was getting quite desperate. At least i wasn’t. It seems that a local bordello had been raided the night before and all of the working girls had been hijacked to Mexico. This assumption was based on the known fact that Mexicans had done the raiding.The women who were kidnapped were all Anglos, which was a plus for a whore in Mexico. The women had been paid employees of the bordello, but it was assumed that they would be held as sex slaves in Mexico, which was the common practice there for Anglo whores.Neither Bob nor I had anything against.