Intimate Encounter With A Japanese Housewife

The restaurant was empty, but when I looked into the bar, I saw it was hopping. I followed them through the bush for almost an hour; they finally stopped and let me catch up. We came around a large grove of trees and a large village. I let them fuck me until they were too tired or they couldn’t get it up anymore. The man started talking, and I heard him say fifteen and my room number. “Jesus, Becca, no, here it is,” Iggy said, pushing my labia to one side. The memory of my night in the village became more vivid as I thought about it. “Spread your legs a little,” he ordered. I sat on my cot and began sobbing uncontrollably. He just clapped his hands and smiled. OK, not really, but they fuck me all the time. Why did they leave me?