“Want me to get started on the typing?” she asked when they’d eaten.“Not really. I’m still gathering impressions. The only thing I’ve put ...own is a sketch map, and the typewriter can’t help that.”“Well, let me see and copy that.” She did. George’s sketch of the village had names by many of the houses.That night, they lay in their separate sleeping bags on their separate cots. George stroked her through the nightgown. She fell asleep with his hand on her, but it was removed sometime during the. “I knew you’d fit… such a good fit…”Unable to hold back any longer, I rolled her over onto her stomach, arched my back, and began thrusting into her. Raising herself up on her hands and knees, she started pushing back into me, huffing loudly, looking for release. Both mine and hers.We fucked like this for a long, long time - sometimes roughly, sometimes softly, but always in sync. If religion is real, I thought, I may have just found it._______________________ We spent the rest of the night. More

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