I could see the silouette of him on top of her thrusting into her missionary, her legs fully open receiving his black manhood. They kissed slowly and ...assionately and she whimpered with each slow thrust. I could see her occasionally glance over and look at me smiling with lust in her eyes to make sure her drunk man was still passed out. "Relax momma he's not waking up, he's drunk and he never has to know." With that he slapped me firmly across the arm. I was frozen, couldn't respond, unable to. Only pleasure. Only joy. Only happiness. Even from a distance, even though he didn’t know who she was, she was saving him. A treasure he did not yet possess and still she was already invaluable to him. His heart had ached much over the week long journey to this village where mountains and sea met. He had visions of her running. Running away. From him? In fear? No, in sheer terror. He couldn’t get his mind around it. Usually, when he had visions, they were clear as day – both in how he saw and. More

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