Fly Fishing and Other Amusements

She was certainly right about THAT! Craig had been correct, too - (a) our balls were slapping together and (b) it didn't feel queer at all. In fact, as the oddity of the situation receded and sensations flooded me, and we got everything properly syncopated, I actually came with a woman atop me - for the first time in years.

Later, faced with a stone-cold breakfast, Roxy sat between us, two semi-hard cocks in her hands, and looked back and forth. We were exhausted - for the moment anyhow - but Roxy obviously felt as if it were time to be starting up again. You could almost hear her thinking - "Damn! Men are so goddamned weak!" Oh well.

Abruptly a long, wet and very noisy fart escaped her: that reddened her face, but she stopped any comments with "Sheesh! That's you two guys' fault, you know. Pumped me full of air you did..."

Then, moments later, "Time to be making some fresh coffee. Then I think we ought to go out fishing, so that I can skunk you both! And if it doesn't work, fishing that is, well, hell, there's always that big flat rock in the sun, the one protected by the willows, where we could..."

She grinned, squeezed both cocks tightly "... where we might just figure out something else to do. If you guys can ever rise from the dead. And if we happen to take a couple of good, thick blankets."