I don’t know for sure. Maybe Pierre Hatch, after your uncle. Instead, I was aborted by my own mother, your ex-wife, Melanie Hatch. Your mother, my g...andmother, was named Emmanuelle Marie-Louise Duchamp, in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. I know that much. She married Reverend Andrew Hatch, converted to Protestant, Baptist Christianity instead of voodoo, but you returned to her faith, rejecting your father’s ... my grandfather’s.“I completely understand why, too. Voodoo, Santeria, these ways are the ways. She has a pleasant face, which often hosts a smile. Her tits are smallish, just a nice handful and mouthful.I knew that she had very conservative views on most aspects of life. It was only recently that I discovered that this also included her sex life too. She had had only three sex partners in her life, and she had been married to the last two of them. And she hadn't had sex in the last eighteen months.However much I would have liked to fuck her, I considered this would be just too much of a. “Good Lord, Karen. That’s the stuff of fiction.”“There’s more.” I said.A burned out car with a female body was found in the river. Three days later a wealthy ... exceedingly wealthy ... family lost their eldest son to an accident on the Red Grade Road above Big Horn. Rumor had it that he was so drugged up that neither he nor his high school buddy were in control when the vehicle sailed off the road.(Careful examination of Google Maps reveal that RED GRADE road is much altered in the nearly half. He hurt for a second. I winced and whined. I spread my legs further apart and relaxed my anus. I couldn’t believe that he was trying to bum fuck me. I started to feel an orgasm building between my legs as moisture seeped down around my vaginal folds and ran down my inner thigh. Suddenly, the divot of his bulbous cock head ridged through my hole. I moaned loudly with both pleasure and a measure of pain. A hand came down hard and slapped the tight flesh of my cheek, as he came into stride and.