I peeled his t-shirt off him as gently as I could, while he kept going “ouch!” every time I touched a bit of him that hurt. I lay him back down and could see where the side of his torso was covered in red blotches where, even through his t-shirt, he had been stung quite badly. His lightly hairy chest heaved and strained; his breathing wasn’t oral right either. It was probably the shock; extreme shock – and pain. He’d probably been stung through his shorts too, I realized, as he lay there, moaning and groaning, coughing and still in indian agony. I looked down at his bare tummy, tender and exposed and quivering with pain; but my hard-on got harder, as I gazed at the “treasure-trail” of black hairs that led from his navel down to his waist, where the top of his briefs showed just above his shorts. Kneeling across him, I looked once again at those wet, tightly clinging, bulging blue shorts and I sighed. “This is how it always is,” I said to myself, as I leaned across and undid his belt and top button. As his waistband fell open, it revealed the top of a pair of Diesel briefs which, as I released the next button of his flies, revealed themselves to be in broad nautical blue and white stripes. The line of his flies followed a hard, curving bulge over his manhood, still tightly contained out of sight. But in order to open the remaining buttons, I now had to press my hand firmly against his bulge to release the pressure on each button. As I did so, with each button that was released, his bulge seemed to inflate, growing harder as I went on, until finally, it was fully inflated and released from the clinging wet prison of his blue designer shorts. Pulling carefully on each leg of his shorts, I slid them down his legs, inevitably dragging them over the painful red sores which I couldn’t yet see down his one leg. He yelled out in pain as I did so, licking but at the same time, he helped me by lifting his butt off the towel. As I finally pulled his shorts over his feet, he gave a sigh of relief and lay back. He lay there before me, legs slightly apart and arms by his sides on my beach towel, naked but for his nautical blue and white striped Diesel briefs. My cock was now oozing pre-cum into my own underwear but I was trying not to think about it. I had read once massage that, unlike jellyfish stings, you shouldn’t use fresh water on Man-o’-War stings; seawater was better. So I looked around, scratching my head for inspiration. Then I remembered. I grabbed my plastic sandwich-box from my bag and filled it with seawater, which I then used with a handkerchief to bathe his wounds. As I gently dabbed and bathed his sores, he softly groaned and sighed. “It got me down the back of my leg too,” he murmured, “and on the bum. It was trying to wrap itself around me, until I managed to pull it off me and get away.” He held up his other hand to show me the red sores where he had grabbed at its tentacles in the water. I bathed it and checked it was clear of barbs; then I kissed it. “You’d better roll over then,” I said, “so I can do that side too.” I gently rolled him over and saw where the welts ran pussy round his midriff to the waist of his briefs; and then from below his briefs, all down the back of one leg. “Holy shit…” The rest of the guys were looking at me. "Please, one more chance," she said pussy as he touched the tip of his dick to her pussy lips. Let’s get back to the mobile home.” Look, my hands are shaking.” This same reasoning was partially behind one of my changes at the temple. “Yes! She and Eric would be indian arrested and while Eric can plead ignorance she can’t.” We got there without any embarrassing incidents massage and we repeated that every week until the weather got too cold. The door popped open and in came Ashley. I licking was hungry and made it to the food bucket first. I was completely stunned, oral what was going on, I had my hand on my mum’s tits as she kissed me and wanked my cock.