Shit she knew Mike wouldn't give a fuck.Meanwhile why they were having their feast, Mike was having some fun himself. The waitress was pretty hot, she...was the kind of woman that he loved. She had a fat ass and short skirt. Everytime she came to the table she made sure pussy rubbed up against Mike's hand that was on the edge of the table. The last time she bought the drink over to the table he stuck his finger upward. "WTF?" he was shocked. She didn't have any panties on. He got a big finger. Even as we kissed, I turned her and took a step toward her bedroom.Tami pulled away. I was surprised."Tony, have you met my grandmother?"My head jerked toward the sofa where an older woman was sitting, her hand covering her mouth."Uh..." Tony, I've heard so much about you," the woman said. She stood and held out her hand. "I can see all of it's true."I wondered if I could go home, get back in bed, and pull the covers over my head until Monday.It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon for the middle. Music was not fun for them, but it allowed them to fulfill both obligations at once. Going to the dancehall also had an entirely different meaning for the males there last night than it had for the women. The women were there for fun, the men because they were required to go.The women did not dispute my observation that their men-folk were in effect monks, withdrawn from society and thinking themselves morally and intellectually superior to women. I was horrified at the picture the women. I mounted her one last time. Our repeated orgasms had numbed our organs making it easy to prolong our coupling, our bodies spent, we were fucking on pure emotion. It was more like a good-bye hug than a fuck. We took turns crying and whispering to each other as my sore pecker probed into her raw cunt. For an hour and 15 minutes we fucked gingerly, never really coming close to cumming. Then we heard the gravel popping under her father’s truck tires. Barbara burst into tears, spread herself.
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