Mr - no, make that Major - Coleman was my f*ther's boss. All of a sudden things were serious.On my best behaviour, I apologised for my late arrival, b...t Mrs Coleman didn't seem bothered. She had a kind of dreamlike quality that made me seriously wonder if she was on something you couldn't get over the counter. The first day she encouraged me to look around, get a feel for the place and come up with some ideas. I couldn't believe my luck - it felt like she had agreed to have me over and pay me. Dorm rooms around campus, morning, noon and night. By the second semester in my freshman year, I had a dozen guys getting regular service. Each two or three times a week around scheduled classes or nights when I needed to study. It grew to 18 by the end of the year and I had to cut out the pub nights completely. Cocksucking. Getting blown in the 70s was the campus standard for casual sex. At big schools like McGill, gender was much of an issue. If you were a straight, horny male, finding a guy. This time I took her for italian and over the meal told her about the place I had purchased in southern italy and how private it was beach and all, she was delighted but even more when I suggested we go on holidays together for 3 weeks just her and I alone, does that mean I get to have you ever day she asked, if you can handle it I said we laughed and she lent over and hugged me with a very quick kiss and a blast of tongue as not to make it obvious to other in the room, we left and headed home. What the hell! No one had lived there for ages! Sure, we used to have hunters coming around wanting to stay there, but after the first horse was shot, we put a quick stop to that. As I got closer I was really in a state of shock because the only times I had ever seen this man before was in pictures. Here was my great grandfather, who died in 1893. I called out as I walked up and he turned white as a ghost, obviously as shocked as me. ‘Clay? Clay? Is that you?’ he asked. ‘Well my mama did name.