As with all my Celtic stories, some of this is historical, some is Irish myth, and some is literary license. I leave it to you to determine which is w...ich. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =WARNING! This warning is probably not needed for this story, but my other stories are usually much stronger. If you are not familiar with my writings and look for other stories, please read the introductory notes so you have an idea of the type of content involved. All of my writing is intended for. You could give your young visitors quite the wrong idea. Particularly young men of color. They are more easily roused and less able to curb their desires than folk like us of anglo stock."Before Mary could come up with a response Jeremy appeared with Byron in tow. Introductions were made and Mary was able to leave her husband to chat with Agnes and a quietly amused Byron and escape into the house."I agree with you, Gladys," said Agnes later that evening. "There is something going on at the. You disobeyed me. He said very flately. I didn’t understand. He said. I told you to suck on your nipple until you squirted and that I didn’t. I tried to explain to him that I couldn’t breath, but he didn’t care. He told me to get on all fours on the table and start fucking my bald cunt with the cuccumber again. I was ashamed and humiliated, but did what he said. I got on my hands and knees on top of the table and with one hand slid the cuccumber back inside my vagina. Since I just came. My fleece as white as the thick creamy spunk that I could feel coursing up the length of his cunt ravaging cock. My ears filled with his caveman grunts and my pathetic whimpers, clinging to the floor, driven forward, shepherded by his mighty member until penned in a corner, I felt his body tense, his hips cease their movement as he emitted a mighty growl, buried himself deep, and flooded my oviney cunt with his glorious seed. Anyway, to cut a long story short (it's a bit fucking late for that),.