He switches to another difficult memory

"How do you know how to do all this?" John's question might be better than his curiosity about Mr. Fats and his henchman, but it is not without its own difficulties. Still, if you are going to make living together with this eager young man you'll have to share a little.

"I grew up on the coast of southern India," You begin slowly not sure how much of your history he needs to know. "It wasn't all that different than this." You look around the lush jungle and clear waters. "My family was poor, if we wanted to eat fish, my brothers and I to catch them ourselves." He is close enough for you to rests your hand on his shoulder and you push him forward as you open up about your childhood. "It wasn't until I got older and my body started to fill out that men started giving me gifts." You had been just thirteen years old the first time it happened, and you can still remember your mother's tepid response to your arrival with a large shiny fish clutched to your chest. In spite of her concern you made it a point to meet the returning fishing fleet each evening and to compliment the men on their skill. "You'd be surprised at how much easier my life got once I developed some curves, but I'm afraid I got a bit of a reputation too."

"Wait, what?" Distracted by the childhood memory you didn't realize John had stopped moving until your forward progress was stopped by a wall of muscle. The feeling of his warm skin on your breasts and thighs made last night's erotic thoughts as you quietly masturbated flood back in another surge of feminine pleasure. Determined not to let his youthful body distract you you push hard on his back to get him moving again.

"Keep moving you big idiot and don't act surprised, John. You know how men are. It didn't take long for me to learn that a smile and a flash of skin could get a returning fisherman to share a fish or two from his catch. After that, there wasn't much need to make my own traps." Most days you could return home in the evening with enough food for the family and although you could tell that your parents weren't entirely happy with how much time you spent down on the docks, they didn't stop you from going every evening.

"You were just a big teasing flirt then!" John's laugh takes the sting out of the words. The wives and mothers of the village had been less kind about your ability to charm their menfolk.

"I guess, but the other women didn't like it much. That's why when Jake showed up looking for a new bedmate my family was pressured into accepting his offer." You remember your excitement when you saw the Western-style schooner first drop anchor in the sheltered harbor of your tiny village. "Me in exchange for a future for my two brothers - an old boat and nets that they could use to join the village fishing fleet." You see John's face tighten as he considers your matter-of-fact description of how you ended up with a white man thirty years older than you as a husband.

"Your parents sold you to the Captain?"

"Well, call it an arranged marriage for a price, if you like." You watch as he pulls his pants back up over his wet boxers hiding the obvious tent a little better. He's definitely bigger than your husband was and he's not even all the hard yet. "It wasn't bad, John, Jake was a better match for a free spirit like me than any of the men in my village. He showed me the world, and taught me how to sail ..." you think to yourself 'taught me how to fuck' as you smooth down your damp clothes over your wide hips. "Unlike the men in my village, Jake didn't want me dropping babies every year." Jake was a decent lover, but as you watch John you decide that you want more than to lay on your back and let the man do his thing. "He just wanted a pretty young Hindi girl to cook and clean during the day and to make him feel young again in his bunk each night."

"Did you love him?" John's question catches you a little bit by surprise, you hadn't really thought about your feelings for Jake. At this point it no longer even matters.

"Get your boots back on, John. I want to show you the waterfall." You want to give the fish trap a chance to work, and more importantly get John someplace where you might get a chance to get a good look at him again. Back at the base camp you take the largest chef's knife and slide it carefully into your belt, handing the other large blade to John.

"Bring the water cooler," you point to the nearly empty red cooler, "if we fill it from the source there'll be less chance of contamination." As he picks up the empty cooler you test the weight of the boathook in your hand. If you run into any snakes, this will definitely come in handy.

You turn towards the center of the island, fully aware that as you walk in front of John he is getting a great view of your ass. That skinny red-headed American missionary might be younger and thinner, but you've seen John checking out your rear before, and you know that men like a little roundness to a woman's backside.

Hopefully, watching your butt for the fifteen or so minutes it takes to get the waterfall and the scenic pool will make John as horny as you are. A quick glance back at him confirms he's watching your swaying ass, but you wish you knew what he was thinking...