I love his company; his English is as bad as my french. But playing golf, sitting by the pool, and sharing a bottle of wine, one can make do with any ...anguage. This time though, I have the place to myself. He is off on a trip with his wife or mistress, or new mistress; I didn't understand when he told me, but he sounded happy. As I enter the bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries hits my nostrils, and I inhale deeply. The bakery is small and intimate. It's part of my morning. It was not a “fatherly hug”…and neither was the kiss …we had dispensed with the pretense that all that brought us together was lust…we were genuinely fond of each other...Still she was eager to get to the point of the visit: “Daddy…I hope I can thank you for the amazing time we had last time were together.” She offered me a place on the couch…but she remained standing…smiling broadly...She looked dreamily into my eyes…body swaying to a tune she was hearing in her head. Gone was the plaid shirt,. It was weighted, but made out of some kind of soft rubber. I could sit comfortably with it in, the only time it was uncomfortable is when Uncle would decide to check and make sure it hadn't slipped. He locked the door and shut off the lights and told me to go back upstairs. I went straight up to his room. He told me to bend over the bed. He slowly pulled the plug out of my ass and said “I'm not gonna fuck you in your ass tonight. I have to train your ass to accept my cock. I don't want to hurt. The story that I share here is the prelude to how Jeanne and I met. And yes, it is the gospel (probably the wrong word to use here) truth.As I alluded in "She Finally Did It", my wife was widowed when she and I met via an online dating service. I was divorced since the early 90's. As a single guy who really was pretty tame before divorcing, I let it all fly when I divorced after a respectable waiting period. Internet chat rooms were the rage and I met a lot of one and two night stands via IRC.