The boys gang up on me.” He told one evening at dinner.“That’s because we’re white trash, Patrick.” I plopped an extra scoop of whipped pota...oes. Ron had been lucky to catch a fish from the polluted inlet. It had made enough gravy for everyone’s dinner.My husband chimed in, “I’ll teach you to fight, boy.” It was the closest thing he’d ever done to being a father to his boy.“No! Daddy.” Patrick screamed. “I’m going to fuck them!”Huh? I paused serving.Ron laughed at his son. They dug into their. Her hair as dark and wild as the jungle itself. Her statuesque naked body standing over him. The low lights reflected from the contours of her shimmering skin."Pachamama!" was the only sound he could pass between his lips.He could feel himself becoming uncovered, his erection still rigid and unswayingly pointing skywards. Her legs, as strong and lithe as the anaconda parted across him - her nails, like the claws of the jaguar, raked his chest.She smelled of sex: raw and powerful. The tip of his. More

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