His skin was fresh and clear, his hair was blow-dried straight, his super smooth legs and butt looked amazing in his blue panties. The little crop top...he picked out showed off just a bit of his lean tummy."There's the birthday boy!!" I exclaimed as I took him in. "Happy birthday Jay!" Thaaaaaaaanks Dad." He said, rolling his eyes and blushing slightly."Grab a seat. I made french toast for your special day." I thought that's what it smelled like in here." He replied. "Thank you!" So? How does it. ”“English, Irish, you are all the same,” he said.A genuine Irishman would have dissuaded him of that erroneous view by punching his lights out. I was only a pseudo-Irishman, but even so made him aware of his horrendous error.“Like a Neapolitan and a Tuscan are the same?”He had the good manners to acknowledge his transgression.“In that case I apologise for the insult.”He held out his hand. “I am Francesco Caracciolo. Who have I the honour of addressing?”I shook his proffered hand. “Compton. More

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