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Tina looked no less confused as I handed her a coffee and kissed her cheek. I mouthed ‘Okay?” and she gave me a little nod. I don’t know who had made it, but there was a dish of what we loosely referred to a cowboy stew in the oven. Basically, mince, potatoes and vegetables with gravy, Worcester sauce and some salt and pepper. All put in a pot and left to cook slowly.I grabbed a couple of bowls and put some bread on a plate, I took them over to Tina. I went to lift her onto the side and there was a look of panic in her face. I hesitated, then understood and lifted her, just a little more carefully. I picked up my bowl and leant against her knees.She slowly opened them a little and hooked her legs around the front of me. All of us ate and laughed and joked. It was one of those times that I will remember with fondness, a time that if you could bottle it and sell it, there would be no more wars or poverty.All three of the Sunday after ‘virgins’ had been shocked by the state of my back. I continued to look out the window as the ground rapidly receded into a warm, humid haze; and, as I did, I kept picturing the sight of Omar (the Zambian male Marta and I had arranged to get her pregnant while we were in Kenya) as his impressively large, and extremely black cock, had fucked my wife with such astonishing vigor and persistence over most of the 14 days we had been in Kenya! In fact, as I sat looking out the window, and thinking about Omar fucking Marta, I had a hard on; which my slacks made it cramped, and almost uncomfortable; and yet the memories were too enjoyable to care!Eventually, after the ground had disappeared from sight into the cloudy haze beneath the plane, I turned to look over at my wife, and she was smiling. I smiled back, and we exchanged a quick and discrete kiss!"How are you doing?" She said, inquiringly."I'm doing very well!" I replied, truthfully.She looked into my face searchingly for a few more seconds, and then she leaned over and kissed me once.
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