That didn’t work. I still felt chemistry. I didn’t know what to do about it, but he did.“Pam, we’ll have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in...four hours. We both better get some shuteye. I have an alarm clock.” Doug shuffled off towards one of the bedrooms without asking which one I wanted.I lay down and quickly drifted to sleep, assisted by the sound of the wind and rain hitting the storm shutters.“Pam? Pam? It’s time to get up.” I heard the voice from afar. I had this slight feeling of panic. Kayla knew her cunt was probably wet judging by the fact she no longer felt any pain from the hand shoved into her pussy. She was upset that her blouse was ruined, but at least she had stopped trembling. She was getting excited, as much as she tried not to be. She could see the blood on Ramsey's lips and knew her chest must be smeared with it. Ramsey kept putting his hand deeper and deeper into her pussy and he was stroking fiercely, waves of pleasure started hitting Kayla until her legs shook. ”“In the pool,” I repeated. I knew what she was asking but decided to be a little cautious.She crossed her arms in front of herself and repeated, “You want me.”I let go of her ankle and laughed, and then I pushed off from the side of the pool.“You want me,” I chortled as a treaded water a few feet away from her.“Maybe,” Maribel replied, her arms still crossed in front of herself.“Get in,” I repeated.Maribel sat down on the edge of the pool, dipping her feet into the water as I swam to the far. It was called “cornholing”. No one thought of cornholing as gay or queer. It was just another sexual activity. It was an activity that I developed a fascination with and it became a favorite sexual fantasy of mine. Since I cannot write about early sexual contacts here, I will have to be intentionally vague and fast forward to my adult life. I have always been a voyeur and many times I have witnessed others engaged in a variety of sexual activities. There were a number of times I stumbled upon.
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