“Well, thank you, very much appreciated sir. Bill’s the name.” I introduced the group, we sat in silence, enjoying the night.“Haa,” said Bil... “Bit different to last time I was here”“Oh yes?”“I was here sixty years ago, 1917. I thought it was time to come back and say sorry”“You were here? Oh man, you’re a hero. I have so much respect for you” gushed Matt, that was him all over. He was outgoing, and had a lot of interest in war. I was still wondering about the ‘sorry’ comment. Sorry for the mess. . Please be him. He found me in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the night. His face washard, yet even. It wasn't anger. I learned it was the look he always got atthese moments. "Every scene needs be crafted, fussed over, focused likea three course meal." I soon understood exactly he meant In silence he came to me. Just stood there, staring, looking straight intomy eyes. I wanted to greet him, welcome him.... Say anything. But that look...mymouth...mind...froze. The image of the moth and the. I ignored the question, open the package of spaghetti, and dropped it in the pot of bubbling water. Six minutes on the timer. As I cracked eggs, grated Parmesan, grounded pepper and added just a touch of cream I could feel his hands roaming my body - one hand on my breast, squeezing and playing with my nipple. The other brushing over my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I bit back a groan, and with shaking hands poured him a glass of the wine in hopes of distracting him. Finally, after grabbing you by the hair and pushing you into your dog dish, you gave in to the inevitable. Truthfully, I was quite unsure of my actions until I reached back to find your sex wet and warm. For the rest of the weekend you begged at the table, being fed an occasional scrap. And, though there was no enthusiasm to do so, you ate the dog food and dog biscuits you were rewarded with. As the weekend ensued you learned what I expected, becoming an expert at licking my cock, balls and.