And maybe he was right. Daily, I thought of the nasty man at the tattoo parlor fucking me and wishing I was with him.After about a month, Bob began to...change and seemed to lose interest in having sex with me. We went from having sex 3 and 4 times a day to once a day, then once a week. After Bob left for work each day, I would lay in bed masturbating, thinking of the man with the huge cock and playing with my pierced nipples.Most of our evenings were spent either watching TV or spending time. While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man can only stare ahead, dumb struck. As they walk into the house, she says casually, “It’s not much, but I call it home. Please sit down.”“Would you like a drink?”“No! No thank you,” the man blurts out, still dazed. “I can’t take another drop of coconut juice.”“Oh, it’s not coconut juice,” winks the woman. “I have a still. How would you like a Tropical Spritz?”Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepts, and. More

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