I would have stopped them but I felt Gary’s hand on myshoulder and heard his lustful whisper in my ears,“Fuck man, you lucky sod, your wif...’s hot… how I wishit was my cock fucking her and not that Pakistanisausage.” I was speechless but my cock was rock hardand getting wet.Before Gary could replace the sausage with his cock,the old man did that. He pulled out a wrinkly, gnarlyuncut brown sweat-smeared cock and after pulling on ittill it was rock hard, pushed its. ”“What’s Scoria?”“Like pumice.”“Oh Hell, no ... that stuff turns to powder.”“Perhaps I could come out, scout the path and see.”“Come out and look, I’ll stay home tomorrow.”In the morning, I was just pouring the coffee ... two cups.A white Dodge pickup with Taylor Sand and Gravel and a phone number lettered on the door negotiated the pit called driveway.Knock Knock“Mr. Taylor?”“Yes, Ma’am.”“Won’t you come in ... I just poured coffee.” I stuck out my hand, “Karen Post.”He shook, took off his hat. More

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