He knew where he was going...this man knew my house…Then he pulled me into my bedroom.He threw me onto the bed, making me bury my face into the bed ...heets until I stopped struggling. He pushed his body full on me. The pressure was almost unbearable.He did not say a word. It got me scared in a whole new way...I heard the tinkle and clink of his belt and the zip being pulled. Then I knew he was really going to fuck me…His hand settled on my shoulder as his other guided his dick to me. He rubbed. Willy. He died suddenly, a heart attack I think. I was quite young, although I remember bits and pieces of neighbors collecting at the house, bringing food and support to Miss Ethel. But then again, I attended so many funerals as a child that they all seem to run together. What little I can piece together of this man was in keeping with the pictures I saw of my great grandfather. He was thin with short grey hair and an easy smile. And he adored his unusual wife…worshipped would perhaps be a. More

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