Both of us were growling and moaning. He put his right hand over my mouth and I licked his hairy, meaty fingers. He pushed two of them in my mouth an... I sucked on them hard. He pushed them further down my throat until I was gagging.He pulled his cock out, turned me around and laid me on the table resting on my back. He put my legs on his shoulders and entered my hole. Again slow, long strokes. I was aching to be plowed so I moaned, “Breed me daddy.” That was a turn on for him and he. At the end of the road we lived in, there was an old house with an even older blacksmith’s workshop in the garden facing the road. The house was known as ‘The Forge’, but it had been many years since anybody had actually worked in the blacksmith shop. Or ‘The Smithy’ as the decrepit old sign said. Old Mr Walker, who’d lived there ever since I could remember, passed away that Christmas time and for quite a few months afterwards the old house lay deserted. Then one Saturday morning I think it. More

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