I tell tales and sing songs of times past remembering. To be truthful, there are hundreds of bards among the citizens. But I am 'The' Bard. I am not b...ing boastful, merely as honest as I can be. My voice is pure. Those who hear my song will always remember it.How can I explain this to you readers? There were great singers and story tellers in Earth's history: In the 2400's ER, there was Rendorich. The 2200's brought Mortok. In the 1900's ER, there was Sinatra and Woody Guthrie and the poet Bob. She reached out to touch him, to tell him she was sorry. ‘Get the fuck away from me,’ he shouted, pushing her hand back. He started crying, burying his head in his arms, rocking. ‘Just get away from me,’ he sobbed. She was going to be sick. The knots in her stomach were churning, the bile rising in her throat. She was crying now, too. ‘Please David, please.’ But he ignored her, sobbing into his legs, rocking. She felt it rising and dashed to the bathroom, trying to get the toilet seat up before. This particular shop owner is more than willing to host me because he says the regular girls are not very motivated to work an hour long shift on public display but which, for me, is the most exhilarating exhibitionist act I can think of plus he says he gets more walk-ins when I'm in the window, the kind of compliment the exhibitionist in me thrives on. I enter the small room with the big picture window wearing lingerie and a Mardi Gras Style feathery mask that hides just enough of my face to. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft and around his balls before taking his cock to the back of her throat while licking around the head. This was a real man's cock, the type she liked and she knew it would stretch her cunt. "That's amazing Miss Lewis. Now let me undress and lie on the bed and you can do a strip for me. Just down to your lingerie as I want to remove that." She was keen to show him her body. He lay on the bed stroking his cock. Her eyes focused on that gorgeous shaft as she.