Charles would be described as "dashing",if people still used such terms. But there was a certain old fashionedhandsomeness that made the word appropri...te. He was a tall trim man inhis mid forties with jet black hair slicked back at the part, and athin carefully trimmed mustache adorning his upper lip. He wore a browndouble breasted suit and his shoes were highly buffed wing tips. Hereminded me of the old Errol Flynn pictures I had seen in mygrandparents' Life magazines or a young Howard. He remembered the beautiful seventeen-year- old redhead at the orphanage. The one named Anguel.He studied the routine at the orphanage for weeks afterwards and learned that all of the children would shower every second day. And that Anguel would always repeat her performance at the end of her shower in the same fashion.She would wait for everybody to leave the shower room before fucking herself with that hand-crafted eight foot long dildo. And go to bed immediately afterwards.Once he had her. “G-string and belly-piercing” he muttered “sexy sexy whore.” I looked at him while he was driving. It was difficult to say how old, but I’d estimate 50-60. He was a great deal bigger than me and surely weighed around 100 kg. He met my look. “Such pretty eyes, such pretty cock, such pretty mouth, such pretty ass” he said more to himself. “When I’ve finished fucking your mouth and ass, I’m gonna put all my sperm in your mouth and I want you to swallow it. Is that clear?” I had been drinking my. He didn't even know where to begin lookingfor another job. Though that didn't mean he didn't try. He spent severalhours during his evenings applying for other universities; first in thestate, then later as he grew more desperate around the country. Andeventually, around the world, with a growing sense of desperation. Hedidn't hear back from any of them. Each night, he would retreat to hisbed, reading a book to take his mind off his anxieties until he fellasleep with the tome next to him. He'd.