A tiny hemisphere is attached on top of the cupola; it's made of some kind of metal, because it reflects the moon's rays with that typical metallic luster.I become aware of a faint throbbing in the air, pulsing like a heartbeat. The air is still here and the streaming fronds of chiffon of my dress descend and cling around my body. As I walk slowly towards the clearing, my sandaled feet still making that soft grrssh, grssh sound in the gravel, I get the feeling of attentiveness, of expectation of things to come. A whiff of ozone reaches my nostrils, briefly registering above the Greek island smells. On passing the statue of the satyr, the throbbing increases, both in intensity and tempo. As I walk away from the statue to the gazebo in the middle, the throbbing wanes, but I feel that I am being watched and that my thin garments are but a command away from being removed from my body.In the middle of the gazebo stands a man, taller and more muscular than a mere mortal. His skin shines. Her stare caused both cocks to throb and strain.Without hiding his boner, Tom daringly stood and strutted the three steps to my exposed wife. "Did -I- do that?" she coyly teased while pointing directly at the approaching cock. He pried his fingers under it and pushed it up toward her as an offering. He stepped to her hip level and she pushed the bedewed pitcher firmly against his bulge, thoroughly soaking and outlining it. First contact is an obvious proof of her ruttiness. This WAS going somewhere. As she rubbed the cold pitcher across his swollen cock she asked, "Does this help cool you off, BIG guy?"He grunted, "NO! I actually came over to help you adjust these." He lifted her crop top and exposed both tiny tits and perfect nipples to us, then flapped the fabric to 'cool' her off. She coyly watched her tits appear and disappear. As he also slid her top higher, she kept pressing the wet tool harder against the bold cock before her. "And THIS... " he pointed at her groin then looked.
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