Roger took her by the waist and lifted her back up. “Little Roger needs cunting,” he whispered, “he needs your cunt cunting him.” Phyllis fe...t his cock flex on her. “Maybe I can help,” she said and lifted under her dress, taking hold of “little Roger,” “I’ll call him ‘Big Roger’ as he certainly is,” she smiled, putting his cock to her cunt lips, rubbing and teasing the tip against her then sitting down on him slowly, feeling that hot cock ooze into her body, passing along the folds of her. I filled the hole left in its place. What I built in its stead probably bore little resemblance to life out west a hundred and fifty years ago so much as a pastiche born from fictional accounts thereof. But I felt certain it would keep the others believing long enough to serve its purpose. # We stood in the main hall of an old time tavern. My mother was the proprietor. She wore a huge skirt with many layers of colorful petticoats showing beneath. A frilly light blue blouse and leather boots. More

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