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found him through the flames. His shorts were at his ankles as the woman feverishly stroked his cock.
    Karen felt something twist inside of her. She removed her hand from Helga’s crotch and watched Bruno. The woman working on his cock had invited another woman into their tryst, a petite blonde, much younger and smaller than herself. The Australian, she thought. His gaze locked with hers, and suddenly she no longer wanted to be there.
    Helga, sensing Karen’s disinterest, turned to new willing partners, three women groping each other in the sand. Karen watched as they slid their fingers deep into each other, but her eyes kept returning to Bruno. She could not stop watching his face relax as his cock was sucked hard.
    Sven stood in front of her then, blocking her view. He held his cock in his hand, inviting her to take him in, but her mind began to betray her body. Sven stroked himself, moaning. She peered around him and found Bruno gone. Her heart seized. Had he taken to the sand with World Bank and Australia? Was he inside one of them right now? Was his tongue torturing their pussies? She covered her face, trying to wipe the images from her mind. “I can’t, Sven.”
    Sven reached out and put a hand to her face. “It’s OK. Go only as far as your comfort will allow,” he said. “We call it the line.”
    She smiled. “I’m at my line, Sven.” She kissed his hand. “Thank you for this.”
    He ran his thumb across her lips before following the moans into the darkness.
    She searched the throngs of naked bodies in the sand for Bruno. She circled the bonfire, but convinced herself he had gone into the sea with someone else.
    A hand slipped around her waist. Her breath caught. Bruno. “Do you want to be here?” he whispered in her ear.
    “No,” she said as tears welled in her eyes. “I want to be with you.”
    He slipped his shirt over his head and covered her with it. They stepped over entangled bodies in the sand, and with hands clutched, jogged away toward their bungalow; the groans and throaty cries muffling behind them.

Seven
    As they rounded the jetty toward their bungalow, Karen slipped in the deep sand. Bruno scooped her up and carried her to their door, her face buried in his neck, and tears streaming down her cheeks. When they reached the bungalow, he released her. Her feet touched the sea-shelled path, but she was not on solid earth; she was floating out of her own skin.
    Inside their room, Bruno hugged her and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Shhh,” he said and leaned in and kissed her. He kissed her with passion that quickly turned primal. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her confusion quickly fell away, and she returned his kiss with the same heat, the same raw want. He wrapped her legs around his waist and cupped her buttocks. His wine-laced breath coursed over her skin, sending chills over every inch. Her arousal soared. Hands flailing, groping, clenching, a tangled mess of hot need, Bruno pushed Karen up against the wall. Trembling and frantic, she grabbed at his pants. He smacked her hands away, and undid them himself, and his shorts slipped to the floor. She held onto to his back and braced for contact. Her lips shook as he pressed his mouth to her puckered nipples. She couldn’t speak even if there were words to express her bestial lust for him. She felt the head of his cock between her legs. There was no smooth hesitation, no gentle prying open of her slit. He pommeled into her with a force felt all through her body.
    Karen squeezed his shoulders until her knuckles whitened. She hissed as he took her hands and pinned them to the wall, her thigh muscles aching as she held herself to him, feeling every jab of his cock deep inside her. This Bruno was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Forceful and crazed with lust, he rammed her with such a force that her back slapped hard against the wall. Pain shot through her.
    “Bruno,” she croaked, but she could barely hear herself over