It was a drawing of a man being martyred. She admired the penmanship, but didn’t fancy the scene.“Some old drawing. Have you seen one like this be...ore, Dad?”He peered at the picture but shook his head. “No. Means nothing to me. Charles?”Charles stopped his database entries to have a look at the drawing.“Nice work. Looks vaguely familiar. I am sure I have seen one like it somewhere.”He went back to his notebook computer, and Frances opened the next package. She uttered a sigh.“Dammit. Another. Squeezing her breasts, I kissed her, and she moved so as to lie on her side facing me. She caressed my face and smiled at me, and as she ran her fingers through my hair she said quietly, “I can tell you like black women, yes?”I said, “This again?”She smiled, “Yes. You said so before, and you admitted it again just now. You were incredible. And you’ve already gotten hard again just looking at me, just playing with my breasts, after all, we’ve already done. That might just be your three-year. More

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