.. while pointing at each woman wasn’t exactly the best way to chose a bed partner.I ruminated that fact as I was sleeping in the bunkhouse ... alo...e.Sometimes I don’t understand women ... not at all ... no sense of humor ... not even a little bit. They were singly interested in a little push push ... perhaps if I had let them fight it out ... but, No ... you had to be a smart ass.The bunkhouse beds were marvels in the realm of uncomfortable ... and cold. But I managed. Eventually, I got warm. Over. And over. And over. Aching to finish, but her enjoying the control she has over me. As we reach the two-hour mark, she asks if I would like to go back to work now.I whisper yes but beg her to let me finish. There is no way I can go back like this. Kissing my neck, she whispers, “Don’t worry, Papi, I got you.” Stroking me firm yet gentle, fast yet slow enough to enjoy it. I feel it boiling up inside me.I’m moaning more than I ever have in my life and squirming on her bed. Legs were shaking. More

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