Even the fifty miles from Stoke-on-Trent raised blisters as I was not wearing my comfortable, and expensive, Wellington boots but a pair of cheaply ma...e boots of the poor. I still carried the skean dhu knife, but inside my jacket, the faded madder red tunic with the green facings of the 69th.It was near 6 p.m. when I entered The Grapes, a typical canal-side tavern, frequented by bargees and labourers. Heads turned as I entered, but after a cursory glance the clientèle went back to their talking. Laughing she asked me if I liked the taste and when I nodded an evil smile spread across her face. With a couple of shifts of her body her penis was pressing against my lips, demanding entry to my mouth. I thought Danni’s cock was huge, well Isobel’s was colossal. I opened my mouth as wide as I could; saliva ran uncontrolled from the corners of my mouth as Isobel forced her cock inside. Danni had stopped her ministrations of my cock and was kneeling beside Isobel watching as her friend. More

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