Out in the mountains, John felt strangely alone. There were no planes flying overhead, no trucks rumbling back and forth hauling heavy cargo. The noti...ications on his phone had ceased. Communications were run on a closed circuit limited to, and only to, the estate grounds. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, raising his fist to use the large dragon-head knocker in the dead center of the rich mahogany doors. Before he could touch the brass, the door swung open, and there stood a tall, old. Cymbeline is always silent—she knows not to annoy me. She makes few noises and lets me have at it against her breasts?I’m making up for the girls who wouldn’t give it up to me in high school, probably.Then I unzip my cock, as she’s weeping and holding her welted bosom. I shake it at her, and she comes forward, excited about getting to service me?but I generally bat her away. ?Why should I let you suck my dick, you filthy pig?? This is my favorite part of the whole deal. The ?filthy pig? thing. More

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