Mr. Orland is naked from the waist down. His pants are off and he is on top of me. Part of me wanted to fight him off. The other part of me really wan...ed to be his Christmas soloist. What could I do? “Sing for me now, Carla. Open up and sing the praises of God. Sing how much we fit together. Your tight young body sharing my cock. Do you like it, baby? Want to be my soloist this year?” I couldn’t speak. His cock felt so good and I knew that if I moved I would start to cum and cum and not stop.. Yes, the other poets would flock to his grave, read his poetry, shake their heads, and ponder endlessly why such talent had to end prematurely, and then—only after his death—would they celebrate his talent, publish books about his life, and purchase his collected works.‘How very romantic,’ he thought as he searched for his leather belt. He found it coiled on one of the chairs.He could do nothing more. His life was a waste. He could do nothing right. His life was all wrong. In death we are. My story starts when I was a very small c***d. I was raised by my aunt Stacy. I don't know much about my real parents only that they left me in the care of my aunt. Now let me tell you a little about my aunt. She was sexy, beautiful and a body to kill for. Every man wanted to take her to bed and just about every man did. And I guess that's why I became a CD. I always wanted to be just like her. When I was about four years old I began by wearing my aunt's high heels, of course they were to big. It was a very hot situation. I hugged her slowly running my hands on her back, occasionally touching her ass and lifting her tee a bit so that I can feel her softest skin. We began talking, she brought her lips close to mine. I wanted to taste them so I just let myself go and started kissing her. She didn’t resist but opened her lips to allow me to taste them. We kept on smooching for more than 20 minutes or so meanwhile I kept lifting her tee, grabbing her waist, touching her ass and grabbing.