The chilled fizz of the cider coated my tongue, sweet and fresh and heady. Taylor must have relaxed a bit because he only looked at Esme's chest once,...and that was when I brushed the sand off her left breast. I didn't even think, it was just reflexive—but then Gabe's behave-yourself glare returned in a flash of jealous warning, and I recoiled into my towel."This is more like it, eh?" said Taylor."I suppose my book was getting a bit abusive of the third person narrative." Esme nudged the. Then I passed his clothes, strung out along the path like he’d shucked them off running, and when I finally came out of the bushes he was lying on the towel, naked, his cock rigid and straining, still breathing heavily from the exertion of the climb. For a second I stood there looking at him, the way he’d once looked at me. “You look better even thanI imagined,” I said. “You thought about me?” ‘Yes,” I said, looking away. “You sure about this?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. I took another long pull. More

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