You know what? I never even found out his last name.”“Nigel,” she said. “That’s an interesting name.” The shirt came open again.“He’s ...he caretaker of the castle in England, where the writing desk came from,” explained Bob.“You mean Wood-something-or-other?” She sipped her coffee.He tore his eyes away from those seductive pussy lips. He was fully hard now. His balls ached ever so slightly.“Woodbury,” he said.“Did you have a nice chat?”“Actually, I did,” said Bob, and the excitement he was. On my first Saturday morning in my new home the doorbell rang. Mr Corbin had popped by to see how was settling in. I had not yet closed my sleeper-couch and apologised for the untidiness. As we stood in the kitchenette drinking coffee, Mr Corbin informed me that his wife and kids always shopped on Saturday mornings, and that he loved this alone time. As we spoke he moved ever closer to me, before finally pinning me up against the counter. In a heartbeat his arms encased my body and his huge. More

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