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There wasn't much hope of learning to speak it very well, Wong thought, but the advantages of understanding it were worth the effort to learn it. John, Wong, and Zithrusa were quite entertaining to the caravaners as they dressed up to the nines, and simpered, flapped fans, and spoke the lisping language of the upper crust. They stopped making boorish comments however when Wong started sneaking up on them and brushing imaginary lint from their shoulders solicitously.John made matching slippers for Zithrusa, and at her instigation continued to produce many fine carvings of the kind that entranced women. She said that they alone might gain her acceptance into the social ranks of high society wives. Wong was uncomfortable wearing silk as he thought himself beneath such finery, but had to admit as the defacto factotum, it was what he should be wearing. John pointed out he was sleeping in a silk tent, so why not wear silk clothing? Logically it made sense, but it still felt to Wong like he. My loving sister, getting fully into it which heaved her breasts up and down. My lips and tongue, gulped her mouth. We were reconnecting, melting and gelling to be a new creature, we both had yearned for the time missed and now fucking like pigs. My sister’s toes danced in the air with each of my thrust into her splashing sweat beads on her satiny body. Our bodies crushed together as my power packed thighs slapped against her naked skin.In an attempt to establish a rhythm, I slowed down but rapidly speeding up like adjusting a pile drive; slowing down once again, only to shift in the top gear and went full throttle keeping her on the edge with the rapid change in my pace and tempo. She had once again reached for her clitoris and sighing as I drilled her deeper. Now with a different thought, I pulled out of her, got off the bed to place my head between her thighs to make my lips go find her pink folds, making her gasp furiously. She pulled her hair, feeling the loss of my cock leaving.
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