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My story starts well into the summer after my last year n High school. I had just applied for a University and joined the department of literature, although that wasn't what I really wanted, because I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life after school and I wasn't any good at a certain thing.I was out working my summer job at a local cafe when this beautiful woman with long black hair, with her captivating eyes, full lips, and big ample firm breasts walked in. I could not take my eyes of her that I unintentionally ignored the customers lined up in front of me, until I got snapped out of it by this woman standing in the same line. I kept going with my business with a little bit of nervousness as I was thinking about my best pseudo-pick up lines to tell this woman and waiting for her turn to come. The moment I was waiting for for the last several minutes finally came when she was standing in front of me, God! She's even prettier up close!"Excuse me?" She snapped me out of. “You would throw His gift back in His face?” “No…” “You don’t sound so certain, Father.” She stood and came toward me. My heart responded, fluttering madly. My eyes followed the silken curve of her calves up to her milky thighs, to the lush mound at their crook, and up over her soft, round belly, unable to look at anything but her. There was nothing else but darkness, beyond her. “You don’t sound certain, but you look certain.” She stood in front of me and placed her hand on my crotch, massaging my stiffening cock through the flannel of my pyjamas. I groaned, hips swaying forward. She pressed her body against mine, pleased with my reaction. Warmth seeped into me, chasing away the chill. Her scent encompassed me in a perfume of vanilla, cut with burnt sugar. I wrapped my arms around her, crushing her against me as I held tight, like a desperate man clinging to a life preserver. I didn’t want the darkness anymore. I wanted warmth, I wanted light. I wanted her. “Do you feel it?” she.
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I’m a reporter from the Daily Chronicle. We’re doing a series of articles on local personalities and want to include your biography. Could we meet over lunch tomorrow?’ ‘Sure.’ I was flattered. —- ‘I’ll have the catfish and a side salad.’ The waitress took our order while we talked. ‘You grew up around here?’ ‘Yes. I’m an only child…’ I talked for an hour, with her asking an occasional question. ‘What about hobbies?’ ‘The only hobby I had was Uncle Jessie teaching me how to fly fish.’ ‘Your Uncle?’ ‘Yes, Jessie Hancock.’ ‘THE Jessie Hancock? He was your Uncle?’ ‘Um hum. He and mom are brother and sister. I’d spend weekends at his house and he’d teach me how to cast a fly into a gallon can from 75 feet. I could never match his ability, though.’ I should have been aware something was up, but the recent funeral dulled my radar. It was good to relive fond memories of my time with Uncle Jessie and Aunt Mary. I talked too much. In the morning I was packing to return to University when the.

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