Some wine if you want’ ‘What time?’ ‘Six on Saturday?’ ‘I’ll be there.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘I have to get out on the shop floor now,’ he ...ays. ‘Okay. Goodbye.’ ‘Goodbye.’ I meant to have the I-don’t-love-you talk with him, but as soon as I heard his voice I knew the phone wasn’t right. Although I don’t want to spoil our Saturday, I’ll have to do it then. The week seems hollow. I am looking forward to my Saturday night with Ben Sheppard but dreading the talk we need to have and I am dreading him going. Who knows how he found him. He’s not even the same brand. He’s…whatever they call the guy who only works with kids’ teeth.’ ‘I believe they call them martyrs.’ ‘No doubt.’ We drink to that. It isn’t long after I go inside that the phone rings. Good. The waiting, so it’s said, is the hardest part. I answer it. ‘Mr. Currie,’ John Kennedy’s thick-tongued voice greets me. ‘How are you?’ ‘That question seems to get harder to answer every day,’ I admit. ‘I know how you feel. I’ve got a contract. I stopped suddenly, grasped a handful of her hair, and pulled my cock back, stopping when the head was widening her sphincter again, then shoved it back in. This was repeated again and again, a slow, teasing retreat followed by a vigorous forward lungeI shoved myself in deep and straddled her ass. Picking her hair up, I gently tugged her head back, far enough to look wildly sexy but not too uncomfortable for her. I started fucking her ass in earnest. Mom seemed to love it, knowing I was riding. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Legend perpetuates a mythic fairy tale that depicts a cheeky gingerbread man who was magically animated, and who spent his life running away from people and talking creatures who wished to eat him. Ancient documents have now come to light that tell a different story:Once upon a time, there was a Gingerbread Man, who lived in the small town of Puddington. Unlike the other sweet inhabitants, the Gingerbread Man was lacking a certain something.