” She spoke in a quiet, menacing voice as she squeezed her nails into my sack! Don’t fuck with me,” she threatened, and then with a laugh added... “at least not until I tell you to!”She soon tired of sharpening her claws on my back and ordered me to get up on the bed and on my back. I did it in a hurry and I caught just a hint of a smile cross her face. It meant surprisingly much to me. Then she started reaching across the bed to inspect my cock. She raised it, pushed it, dug a nail into its. ”Annette prompted me. “Go on — what else did she call you?”“She called me ‘a little farmer’s boy with a little sickle’. She said she only wanted grown men with big scythes.”“Well, your little sickle has grown into a huge, wonderful, scythe, and she is the loser. What happened to her?”“An itinerant thatcher, Dennis by name, put her in the family way with his big scythe. She left Grantham for London, and was never heard of again.”“And what of the other love of your life, — Amy Fairfax — did she. More

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