I was shocked when I saw Allan’s son at the funeral service. I haven’t seen the boy for at least 4 years. He’s 16 now and is a ringer for his da.... Is it me, or are kids maturing much more quickly these days? I must be getting old. Even policemen look far too young. Paul and I didn’t attend the wake. I couldn’t bear seeing anymore of Allan’s mousy, stupid little wife or hear her irritating Home Counties English accent. More to the point, I couldn’t accept the ghost of Allan in the shape of. One overcast afternoon I decided to make a return visit to the sex shop as the beach and the Sea were not all that appealing today. On entering I paid my fee and decided to check out what was happening in the theatre upstairs - not much of anything other than a couple of young men exchanging blow jobs in the dimness along the wall on the right. I retreated and descended the stairs to the basement area and turned to the left at the bottom. This side of the basement was totally different than. Whether she did so out of fear or because she was still cold, I’ll never know. Mr. Morrison turned his attention to her, ‘G’day, Boo.’ ‘G’day, Mr. Morrison,’ Boo managed to squeak out. A timid mouse, which was Boo. ‘Come to take a look-see at my new comic books, have you, Henry boy?’ Boo shot me through with a killing glance that spoke louder than words before she drifted off to the back of the store where Mrs. Morrison could be found amid yards of ribbon and bolts of fabric. I turned my. I convulsed underneath him, silently begging him to fuck me harder. The veins of his shaft bulged violently as my cumming-grip tightened and clamped more than he expected.Like a real man, my lover powered through my tightness, rhythmically ramming into my ever-gushing creampie. He pushed my legs open wider and slammed deeper. The sound of his fat cock splitting me open drove me wild, causing me to buck into his thrusts.Two... I erupted again, clenching his pounding cock and pulling him closer..