He reached into his pants to see if he could provide for her request and begins to pull his banana out. Giving him a hand she grabbed his offering. It felt hard as she held it in her fist. Moving her hand over its length she felt his holdout tremble. She giggled and let it go.

Holding her Casabas in each hand, she pushed them into his face. He squeezed his nose amid them, smelling their sugariness, moving up and in-between. Holding them he rolled them together and imagined his mouth over their steams, sucking and tasting their sap.

Pulling them from his hands, her lovely ladies roll down his white Guevara shirt that was soaked with nervous sweat. Her melons cling to his chest; his black pants burn in the sun as his banana slides between the large lovely melons she cups suspiciously in her hands.

He moaned with delight seeing her push her rounded goddesses over his firm fruit, squeezing it. Pulling both, one in each hand, up to the peak of his produce, they fall back down and she pulls them back up.