(she was famous!)The cottage was an old Victorian workers place; front door with one window to the left, and a hallway in front of you when you walked...in. Then there was the second bedroom on the left, and you walked into the living room, with the kitchen at the back followed by the bathroom. The place had no heating except for a pot belly stove in the kitchen but I didn't mind. I was a builder, and always had a trailer full of timber offcuts. The house was always warm, and Sue said she was. It had been too many years since the last time I enjoyed the erotic company of my own sex, a desire I had indulged frequently in my twenties. I had married a woman in the end, who I did love in my way and to whom I had managed to remain faithful for a decade. However, those old desires still simmered beneath the surface.After examining the picture more closely, I realized that the human male in the drawing was a young Paul Turcotte. I had only ever seen pictures of the artist in middle age just. He enjoyed dressing in his Easterfinest, hiding eggs for the kids on find, chatting with his friends inchurch, and enjoying ham on this annual rebirth of spring. Alas, timewas not on George's side. Now in his seventies, he felt his best yearswere behind him. He feared his next Easter would be his last. And afterbeing diagnosed as a diabetic at age 68, George could no longer eat theEaster candy he enjoyed growing up. Despondent, he hoped and prayed thathe could enjoy Easter like he used to.About. Her beautiful breasts were gracefully moving in unison with her massaging as she moved back and forth and eventually around to my side. Still lying face down, I felt this strange but almost sensual sensation move across my shoulders and gradually down the small of my back over my butt, down the crack and even onto his head again. This was mind-blowing. It moved down my thighs, dwelled on the backs of my knees, over my calves and even into the soles of my feet. My curiosity got the better of me.