He didn't speak about his accident but he had cruched ribs and was more or less immobile until they healed. I used to make sure I was the one who did ...he bulk of the caring for Mr Bartholemew, I told myself it was because it was important to his healing to have a familiar face, actually I just enjoyed his company, he never complained and always asked how I was, we used to talk quite a bit, silly stuff really and I think he was almost unique in being a handsome young man that never flirted with. The hooks of its contours stabbed into the flesh of his head, shooting pain through his body and sending him onto his side.“I am Moros,” it said, and buried him in darkness.Just as he fell under heavy curtains of black, he awoke to it. He looked to his left, his right, up and down, but found nothing. Weight pulled him down, kept his feet grounded against something, but when he reached down to touch it, there was nothing. His fingers found that nothing was actually something, whatever his feet. As the shaft slid in deeper, his hole finally reached the base of my dick and I paused to let him get used to it. To my amazement, he slid himself forward then thrust back hard. He wanted a rough fuck, and that's what I gave him. I used all my energy and fucked the living daylight out of this dude. He was moaning like a bitchwith each thrust of my cock. I couldn't endure it much lomger. I reached around to wank his cock, but he'd beten me to it. He was wanking furiously. So I kept fucking him. It sensed the completed changes and the following stillness.It was tired now.* * * * * * * * * *Cheapside House, London April 20th, 2001 ? 10:04amSergeant Michael Harrison was not in a good mood this morning. They had completed their office move yesterday, a move that had meant that he had lost his own private office and had been re-located to a newly renovated 6th floor open plan office overlooking Cheapside.He hated open plan offices. The constant chattering, the lack of privacy and most of.