His hand wandered up my body until it rested on my shoulder and began to push downward. I let out a small sob, knowing what he wanted.I tried to tell ...yself not to do it, to refuse, but I couldn’t. Slowly I sank to my knees, tears of shame running down my face. He’d seen me, knew who I was. If I didn’t do this, I knew he’d tell everyone. My knee hit the damp, cold concrete floor and I could smell his manhood, right in front of my face.I sobbed again as he reached down, and using his thumb and. “Oh, come on. You have to at least grip it,” he said.I hesitated, then reached down again and placed my entire palm on it and wrapped my fingers around it. It was so thick that they almost couldn’t reach all the way around. I was staring at it in my hand, mesmerized. Ten seconds went by without me even noticing.“Well this is much longer than just a second, so why don’t you stroke it a little?” he asked.I guess just rubbing it a little wouldn’t hurt much, I thought. I slid my hand slowly up and. “Now tell me, my strange looking man what are you doing in my kitchen and why is your wagon in my courtyard?”That was my introduction to Miss Peggy Shippen and I must confess I was quite smitten with her facial features from the very first and could easily understand why an intelligent man like General Arnold would be tongue-tied in her presence.I suspected that she sensed I was not meant to be in her time period because she kept touching my shoulder or my arm to convince her that I was truly. And then I heard it again."Who is it?" I said."It's me Mr. D. I gotta pee" said my step-daughter's friend Tammy."Why didn't you use the bathroom upstairs?" I said."The door was closed. I thought you guys didn't want us to use it, so I came down here," she said.I just shrugged, figuring I was in the shower with the curtain pulled, so it wasn't a big deal. It's not like any of my step-daughter's friends had shown any interest beyond some innocent kissing, a little bit of touching, and a lot of.