My eyes automatically went low, and my jaw dropped when I saw the size of his dick.
Tongue caught between my teeth, I watched him push his wet hair back from his face and stretch a little, arms over his head. Hanging on to a branch above my head, I carefully side-stepped out a little bit and peered through the leaves. There was a weeping willow about twenty feet closer to the lake, and without giving it a second thought, I darted toward it and then scrambled up onto a low branch. My stomach whooshed, and suddenly I was driven by one gut instinct: I need a better view.
Jutting into the lake was a short wooden dock, on which stood Jack Valentini, dripping wet and buck fucking naked. Not far from where I’d been about to relieve myself was a clearing in the trees, and beyond it was a small lake. When I heard another splash, I cautiously made my way in that direction. Gasping, I straightened up and looked around, frantically yanking my shorts back into place. I was about to squat (good grief, what an inelegant word) when I heard a splash nearby. Hurrying across the forest floor of dirt and pine needles and dry leaves, I moved away from the road until I couldn’t see it anymore. But none appeared, so I climbed over the Valentinis’ fence and ducked into the trees, cursing myself for being so out of it before I left the cottage. I hopped from foot to foot, desperately wishing for another solution to magically present itself so I would not have to relinquish my dignity or give my vagina a poisonous rash.
0 kommentar(er)
