Oh, silly stuff. Some poetry, some short stories. Nothing really. I kept a journal for years. It always calmed me. Made me feel at peace, you know? We...l, silly me, of course you would know. Brain smiled back and asked, If it made you feel good, why dont you still write? Rachael became very quiet. I stopped when my husband died. I just didnt seem to have anything to say. Brian leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. Have you ever written about him? His death? Your lives together? You might. Once again I was getting hard so Rachel sat me on the bench, spread her legs and eased my penis into her wet pussy. She then wrapped her arms and ankles around my neck.She used her arms and legs to bounce on my penis, I looked at her stretched pussy and placed my left hand on her back and inseted my right index finger into her asshole, she quickly leant forwards and kissed me in an attempt to quieten her moans.As she pulled away I noticed Ms Writ sitting on the opposite bench with her feet up. More from Fangman: The inventor of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Arthur Davidson died and went to heaven.At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur. ‘Since you’ve been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can hang out with anyone you want to in heaven.’Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, “I want to hang out with God.’St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God.God recognized Arthur and commented, ‘Okay, so you were. It would be six hundred dollars before taxes and that would really help his finances. He still had enough to cover the mortgage even after paying his electricity bill. That money would go to the next month’s rent.“That is good,” Rich said.Nodding his head, Jack said, “That will give me about three weeks worth of work out of the month. I used to make close to twenty dollars an hour and worked six days a week, but those days are over. Now I’m doing good to get two weeks of work a month and ten.