Fortunately, he managed to run down an unlikely source of real French brandy in a widow’s home that catered to lonely bachelors and transients not c...nfirmed in the Mormon ways.The widow was not Mormon and neither were her two daughters, but the religious folk let her stay in their settlement because she provided a valuable service that dated back to the beginnings of time immemorial and unlikely to ever cease to exist before the final calling.The eldest daughter was called Mercy and he thought. And indeed, fucking and getting fucked, were not Marian’s problem. Any guy over fifty wanted to bang the proverbial shit out of her. It’s just that they couldn’t. Not the way she wanted. She’d developed this hunger for young men. Hard asses. Hard stomachs. Harder cocks. But her obsession was becoming stifling. She was resenting more than she was living. Time to get over it. Read a fucking book. Plan a trip somewhere. Go to the fucking museum. There’s more to life than pining for a young Brad. She pulled her sword from her back scabbard and reached out and up so that the point of the sword rested on Maoliosa’s chest just above her sunburnt breasts a little beneath her throat. “Confess your crimes, witch,” she called out loudly, “and accept the justice of the Crown and of the Lord.”Maoliosa trembled in obvious fear, but then answered clearly, “Your most royal highness, Queen Aideen, I am not a witch. I know no magic. But the Lord has revealed to me that if you burn me on All Hallow’s. I squeezed harder with each stroke; the bubbles working their way through my fingers as I did, until Sir gave in and his cum filled my hands. I was careful to wash him off without causing any more interest and we stood under the shower head together, the soap running down us both.Sir had taken time to obtain a parking baby near the entrance to the mall, a strange thing I thought as Sir usually grabs the first available spot no matter the distance involved. Being a Saturday the mall was packed..