" I didn't know." He smoothed down his mustache and wondered how the girl maintained those silly curls at her ears, those corkscrews."Few did," said C...roline, who had enjoyed sharing an odd but durable relationship with the former slave as well the long-kept secret of both his literacy and his freedom. "What are you making?" A dancer, sort of a doll for Annie, a toy." He held up the tubular but still-headless body he had carved from a piece of kindling. "He has legs, but I haven't finished. Bronwen and I took ourselves off therefor a couple of nights, drank too much, and giggled ourselves to sleep aswe had as young teenagers. Bronwen (who always had a fantasticimagination) said she was sure that Mabel had slept in our bedroom, andthat probably dirty old Dickens had let him in and 'spunked' her - he wasknown for his wandering hands, bedroom visits and worse. I said that Iwouldn't mind being a bit descended from Charles Dickens, and wondered ifit might make me a better writer.It was. Instead I moved my hips back a bit and knelt upright between her thighs, looking down at her face as I continued the deep thrusts without the contact she thought she needed.Her pussy was clutching me like a vise, and I could feel the flutterings inside grow stronger. Finally I moved up to a pace as fast as I could continue in this position, but still refusing to grind against her clit. Looking down into her eyes I saw her face was a mask of passion and lust. I reached down and held her hands in. ‘Come on. I live down here. You can pee, and stop over if you want. I’ve a spare room.’ She looked at him quizzically, ‘You’ve a spare room? In Cambridge?’ He shrugged, and led the way. She looked around the small terraced house in silence. This was not a rental, it was a home, and it exhibited design, style, and taste. ‘Don’t tell me this is yours.’ ‘I know. I try not to let people visit.’ ‘I can imagine! A property owning son of a miner — it blows the cover a bit.’ ‘The toilet is upstairs,.