Recommend Blogs: DANGEROUS DONGS had passed when we all set out for the beach house. By this time I'd built an elaborate fiction in my mind involving me and Gabriella, urged on by the thousand little things she'd said, and the thousand little moments we'd shared, all of which I vainly interpreted as flirting. We'd find our hands touching as we absently reached for something at the table, and when I'd look at her I'd find her eyes fixed directly on mine. Her imperfect English would produce the occasional saucy remark that I'd think about for days. I thought about her when I made love to my wife, and I fucked her hardest on the nights I thought about Gabriella.
