I finally went to bring up everything from home.I return to the barge and dumped the fish over the side. I went back up and closed the door and turned...out the lantern. I stripped and laid back in the swinging sleeping platform to think. The sheriff or his men had murdered my family so they could use the farm to make whiskey. The king's law was clear about that so the sheriff was a traitor.Sleep did not come and I was up and dressed before the sun rose. I knew what I was going to do and was. I was writing from the perspective of a very old man. ……………………………………… Leaning on my cane, I look down across the mountain into town. My town, my home for over sixty years. My daughters respect my privacy, waiting patiently by the car. Actually, only one is my blood daughter, Barbara Joanne, the other my step daughter Amy. They bring me once a month for a short visit. It saddens them, knowing they won’t have to do it much longer. I’m eighty three years old now, and reside at an assisted living. It didn't take much encouragement before I had his cock in my hand and I was stroking it. I can hardly describe the feeling of it. It was SO different from holding my own cock, it was warm and soft and very hard. I sat in his passenger seat jerking him off and thoroughly enjoying the situation. I did get told off once for squeezing too hard. Oops, don't know how hard I'm supposed to be doing this. I'm always quite firm with myself...Anyway, with very little further encouragement I leant over. We giggled and continued to look around while occasionally glancing back at the movie. I noticed the walls were made of a thin board type like you would see in office cubicles that I remembered seeing at my mom's work. The porno movie played just a few minutes and shut off.I naively asked, "Why are there holes in the walls?"Shay responded, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Those are...I think...glory holes." As my puzzled face displayed my lack of understanding she continued, "You know. Gay.