HECTOR

The woman from the village pushed me again, so much so that I felt the distinct shape of her puckered nipples through the black Muslim fabric of my loose-fitting dress shirt.

I inhaled a reflexive breath before leaning forward, the tent in my groin pushing stubbornly in disagreement with the heavy bulk of my pants.

Why was she doing this? Why wasn’t I stopping her?

“Nola,” I groaned when she leaned into me again, darting out her tongue to lick my ear that was peeking through my hair so that I jerked in shock. The hard rod of my shaft lurched and strained against my pants pleasantly until I...