They stared towards the sea where the waves crashed onto the shore and where several other tourists were fucking and being fucked on the fine-grained ...and. “What are you thinking about?” asked Sharon, knowing full well why Tracey was so untypically quiet. “I don’t think we can afford the bill.” “Yeah, but we got plastic. That’ll cover it, won’t it! What the fuck’s plastic for, anyway?” “Yeah, we got plastic. But we also got, – whatchayoucallit? – credit card limits. That’s the most you can put. At home, I would occasionally hear springs creaking; later, I would figure they were having sex. My dad would also sleep in every Sunday morning; walking past my parents' bedroom, I would usually catch his hard cock sticking out of his boxers. I would take a good look every time, cautious not to get caught staring at his hard, uncut, perfect cock; he must have been close to 7 inches. I would go back and forth a couple of times. Same scene every Sunday morning. Meanhwhile, it seemed that seeing. More

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