Michael’s forward-thinking mentor at theological college had said there were two centres to a village: the church and the pub. He opted to visit his...competition, or was it collaborator? He wasn’t sure. “Good morning, what do you recommend?”“For what? Gout? Growing potatoes? The next government?” The bar man was either surly or a wag.“Well, we can talk about those three if you like, but let’s start with the beer here. Are they local?”“Aye. You could try the Skirt Lifter, but that’s more one for. You part your legs for me. I move my hand slowly down, rubbing and caressing every inch. Soflty. Gently. My mouth is moving back and forth from breast to breast. Licking. Running soft circles around the nipple with my tongue. Then taking it into my mouth and sucking hard. Pulling it deep into my mouth. You moan. “Please don’t stop.” I don’t. Your hands are still on mine. Squeezing them until I can barely stand it. Somehow you know just when to stop. To rub them softly. Then pinch and pull the. I wouldn't have complained if there were five naked women without either beer or pork rinds. Those particular five women, however, were also not there. There was a fully clothed Girl Scout with a red wagon full of short bread cookies.She smiled at me cheerfully. I smiled back. It is an impressive feat to haul a red wagon full of short bread cookies up an eight step concrete stoop, then up three stories of stairs, and remain capable of a cheerful smile. I felt she deserved something for it, even. I could see her flabby body getting tense as she awaited the entry of my cock into her shitter. I held those crimson cheeks wide apart and positioned the head of my sheathed cock against her sphincter and put some weight behind it. I popped through that ring of tough muscle and pushed a couple of inches into her rectum. At first she made just the normal response to having her asshole plundered. We'd done this enough times that she was beginning to get used to having my dick plumbing her.