’ All of the events in my stories at this time are true and only names and perhaps venues/places changed to protect others.Many years ago, around 3... or so, I had an ‘English girlfriend’ who for a short time lived in the Greater Glasgow area. She was dark haired, spoke with a London accent and had a fantastic body; her tits were magnificent, full and great pointed nipples and areola which was dark and large along with the hairiest yet trimmed magnificent vagina. She was quite simply a. Just that it would have to be always on MY terms. Maybe I really did misjudge him. Now what?Terry continued."As it is, these couple of months plus have put a serious strain on our relationship. It will take a ton of work to rebuild my trust. So if you had any ideas of continuing the cuckold thing beyond the three months, you can forget it. I'm not going for it."There it was, Terry had drawn the proverbial line into the sand. It was over as far as he was concerned on day "ninety".But then he. He was only in his late fifties, but his wife was only in her late forties and his son was only ten. Both mother and son sat across from him at the table as he finished saying the Lord's prayer. It was a tradition, he said it before every meal, and it was supper time.The man's name was John Holstem. He was a small time cattle-owner and farmer. He was by no way rich, but he wasn't exactly poor either. They made enough money to get by. They certainly made enough money to keep the house maintained. The guy with the knife thrust at my belly and I laughed as it simply ran along my side. I grabbed his wrist, and without even thinking twisted. It snapped like a twig and I threw him into a wall.I turned and saw Sam. Rage is all I felt. I punched, and felt his nose crunch under my fist. I hit him in the chest with my other hand, and felt ribs shatter under my blow. He doubled over and vomited, and I thrust my knee into his groin, feeling a crunch. He fell onto the ground and I was about to.