’ ‘Is he sad, Grandpa?’ ‘Yes, child, he is. I can see it in his flight and sometimes when he rests on the bluff or in the barren trees’. ‘...oes he cry? Do falcons cry?’ ‘No,no dear, not most but this falcon is different. He does cry as he searches for a love he has not found. He cries as the wind spirits pull him this way and push him that way and then lift him to the sky’. ‘How do you know he cries, Pa?’ ‘I feel him cry, little one. I have never seen Falcon’s tears but I have seen the sparkle. She was walking straight toward me, which is why I didn’t see another feature that dress was advertising, prominently. I did notice there was something amiss with her waistline, but I was too busy drinking in her face and chest to be bothered with trying to figure that out.In fact, it wasn’t until she hugged me that I realized there was something between us inhibiting the hug.I pushed her away with my hands on her shoulders, and looked down.Now I could see what that dress was advertising.She. "Yes Sir. Did you know her, Uncle Homer?" No, but I do remember the day of her funeral. She and her husband were killed in an automobile accident out on Route 22. Their family buried the two of them on the same day." Did she have lots of family?" Her parents were quite old, but I think she had a younger sister. I think her name was Sally something-or-other. I read in the papers a couple years later that her sister got married. She married some guy well-to-do. Now, I think she's about the only. Her knees were parted, her achingly swollen sex peering out at him from between her reddened cheeks, and he realized the juice that dripped down her thighs was hers alone – the other man had not cum. Richard’s smile was tinged with a little disappointment, surprising himself. But he’d leave that for another moment to think over, right now Delia was open, waiting, and from the sound of her short little breaths, as hungry as he was. He brushed the head of his cock over her lips, pleased at how.