The newcomer leapt at me, gripping my arm. “Stop... stop ... you cruel b**st!” she cried.Who are you?” I asked looking down at blazing blue-gree... eyes. “I... I’m Mara I... I’m Deema’s sister...” “Is that so?” I smiled. I signed to a nearby guard. “Horse her, too, “ I said. “We’ll make it a family affair.”Shrieking and struggling, Mara was hauled up like her sister, presenting me with her white back and buttocks. I guessed her a year or two older than Deema and she was slightly more fulsomely. And while I did find myself occasionally stealing glances that were longer than what would be deemed appropriate in polite company, especially at that tight, bikini-clad snatch that was so hard not to ogle, the day and evening and the next day carried on pleasantly. Scarlet even managed to get her sunscreen applied by my daughter instead of me, so clearly her wanting my hands on her body had been nothing more than a cancer-protection necessity.It was on our third night that Scarlet asked me for. More

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