Sometimes we would play strip pool.We would head back out to the deck and he leaned me over the rail. He’d bury his cock as deep as he could into my...pussy. My cries and moans echoed into the mountains. We would have our play sessions wherever we were, on the couch, the hot tub or the deck. It didn’t matter to us. I loved him more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. We had stopped another night and went back to the bunk. He secured me in place on the bed. The back windows were. "A good fish," I said, patting my impressive stomach. I chuckled at my now almost forgotten nickname: The Portly Poet. "Getting a bit more than Portly!"I glanced around. Now was not the time for another surprise visitor, for inside the fish I had found something. Looking like a series of dull white rings chained together with fine mesh, it unfolded into a fingerless half glove. Not silver, it wouldn't take a mark, even from my Runed dagger. Not the same material as my gray metal Titanium. More

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