We used to make fun of her as k**s and say that was her church uniform. She was nearing 60, very light skinned, and wasn't very tall, maybe 5'4" and w...ighed about 250 lbs. Not at all attractive. She had jet black hair that she must have kept dyed and always wore in this awful short perm. All the old chicks as I thought of her at the time, got their hair done every Friday afternoon or Saturday morning.Mostly Mrs. Ruth annoyed me because it always seemed she'd pick the exact time I was. But you never asked me what I looked like. You didn’t ask me about my sexual tastes. You didn’t even really inquire into my “situation” – in short, our chat was so unlike all the others I have had. In short, you didn’t sound like you were trying to get inside my panties.I think I can trust you. I don’t think you’ll take anything I do or say and twist it around for your own advantage or selfish desires. I think I can trust you.So here’s the deal. I want to see who this man is, the man I suddenly. As I shot my fluids into the air a second time I heard “STOP!” and instantly the flowers stopped fucking me but they did not withdraw.I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Casswell standing over me with his feet above my head looking down at me. “Your name is Ellen, isn’t it?” he paused as if waiting for a reply then said “Oh, I know you can’t talk, none of you bitches could. The fucking flower is down your throat and you cant make a sound.”He looked in the distance and shouted “HEY, BOYS! OVER HERE!. I left my bedroom door open since it remained hot and I had my window open and needed the cross ventilation. I pulled my bedspread and top sheet down and flopped down on the bed. Nancy called to me from the hall that I'd forgotten my water and brought it in. She sat down on the side of the bed, put the glass on my nightstand, and told me again that she really hoped I was OK. As she did so, she placed her hand gently on my leg. When I had laid down, I'd positioned my penis pointing down toward.