We would see her again. We watched her from the ship, picking her way through Brussels in the aftermath of the Battle of Waterloo. We had everything s...rted for her and as she disappeared inside a building where she would find warmth, fortune and love, we waved a fond farewell and we left her to it. I did double check that Computer had her locked on and it was with a tear in my eye that I ordered us away from this era.We needed cheering up and I asked the girls what they wanted to do.'We have. Finally add up each guys ticks, and then choose the ones with the most ticks .She liked my idea, and we spent some time working out the questions to ask.We decided she should ask things like, were they married, did they have girlfriends, could they stay overnight, what was the normal number of times they came, what was the most times they had ever cum, what was the most important thing when having sex, etc,etc. Maria asked what about the guys that had already phoned, I asked her if she had. It was something I thoughtthe girls at my book club would like.Chapter 1His name was Aaron. He was young man. Thin, but strong, or should I saystrong boned. He lived with his two parents. His father was going old andsenile. His mother was young and very concerned with political affairs ofthe world. Not that she was a politician, but she wanted to do her partand change the world to fit her mind.Aaron looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was sickly colored. Heneeded more sun, but also better. Immediately Iremember that last night Fong in his female form pleasured my cock.Right away I notice he has transformed back into a man again and isstill wearing his mother's black silk dress. His silk cover ass ispressed against my cock so I slowly try and pull it away from hisdress. Then I realize it appears to be stuck on it. Evidently duringthe night my cock must have leaked some seed after I came causing itto stick to his dress.Carefully and very slowly I try to pull my cock from Fong's.
Read MoreSlowly, the bones of a proposition began to form in my mind. My thoughts turned to Brankston Tusker, Harwell's unfortunate brother. He was, I recalled
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