Even though the basic plot in mystory is obviously a matter of pure imagination, there are elements,both subtle and not so subtle, that some who are p...rsonally familiarwith me might recognize. That said, I must stress that none of thecharacters here is supposed to be viewed as an insertion or a caricatureof an actual person from my own life, no matter what deliberate orcoincidental similarities there may be. In particular, this goes for ourhero, Mr. Caldwell. It does seem that whenever I write. I had no interest in college or anywhere else. The Faire was all I needed. That and Uncle Henry, of course.I was 22 when Uncle Henry passed away from a stroke. I know- sad shit. But I was fortunate enough to have another family waiting to adopt me. One that had a reputation for taking in all who needed refuge from the misery of the real world. It was the tight-nit staff here at Notts’ Faire. And as you might have guessed, Uncle Henry had willed the land and business to me. Me and Becca, that. All 10" of black cock one second would be visible except for the head and in the next instant his pelvis was against hers and she was squealing in pleasure.He pumped steadily into my wife's stretched pussy, gathering a rhythm as his balls slapped against her ass and she moaned and cried out from underneath him. Standing he towered over her 6'2 over her 4'9", and on top of her head was buried in his chest hair sucking his nipples as she held her legs wide for him. She was crying the same. "Well, he played with my — tits — feeling them, and squeezing them, then he reached down and opened his trousers. I nearly stopped breathing, William — I had never seen a man's penis before. He pulled it out — it was very hard, and it was a strange purple colour, as if it was — angry. He took my hand, and put it on his penis. It was like nothing I had ever felt before — so hard, and hot, but still, sort of, yielding. It felt — wonderful — I felt as if I was taking advantage of him, not him of.