You can call me Grandpa Jones, or sir," the little old man replied."You're file says that you're Benjamin Jones," God pointed out."A name's just a hoo... to hang your reputation on," Grandpa gently chastised. "I wasn't so proud of some things I did when people called me Benjamin Jones, or even just Ben Jones. I've got the scars to show I paid for them, and Grandpa Jones is what I go by now." Do you know who I am?" God asked.Grandpa Jones frowned and looked at him closely, before asking, "Do you. Pulling it up, Nancy started stroking along the upper part by the glans. At the same time, she moved down to kiss all around the head and give it a few nice licks as well. Her hand continued its slow stroking and she only paused long enough to lick along the shaft where she was holding it. It had already started to grow, but she knew it had a lot more to go. She worked her tongue down the underside of his shaft and didn’t stop until he reached his balls hanging down below it. She took one in. It was late by the time camp was sat up, and we ate sandwiches that had been picked up in town that night, but we had a large campfire, to warm ourselves. As the evening grew into nighttime it got colder, and Glen and I sat together, and his big body sheltered me from the cool air. We all turned in early that night and Glen, I noticed, had zipped our sleeping bags together to make one big one. We stripped off our outer clothes and went to bed in our under shorts and t-shirts. I got a good look. “Thought I saw you leaving with some young guys a while back.” Vixen nodded, sipping her drink and recalling that Phil was well-hung and very industrious as a lover. Neither of the Miller boys had brought her to a climax, and her body was crying for attention. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” she suggested, almost saying fuck instead of talk. “I’m just visiting here with a friend,” Phil said, unable to take his eyes from Vixen’s lovely breasts with their upright nipples which moved.