”“Mmm” she murmured.I had more than a handful of tit in each hand and I was kneading them vigorously. My wife had just about my whole cock in he... mouth and she was stroking the underside forcefully with her tongue. Her tongue was the only thing moving, and it slowly drove me up and up toward the precipice. After being married for so many years, I figured she knew what she was going to get if she kept this up, so I had long ago quit warning her of my impending climax unless she told me to. It. The novel was about a young lady who was searching for her roots. It was set in the West Country, and involved a railway that had been closed years before. I had been told that if you want to write, write about something you know. Well I knew the West Country, and I knew about the old railways. I understood that I had set myself a challenge, telling the story from a woman's point of view. It was in some way a Rites of Passage novel as well. Would it ever be published? I doubt it, but that. More

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