I miss him.She checked her compass. It wasn’t pointing towards the tunnel. But it was moving. Swinging from the north. Slowly, but surely, moving we...t. She saw a group of men moving towards the tunnel. Their leader was dressed like a businessman down on his luck – suit astray, shirt untucked, hair unkempt. He looked forlorn. The one beside him on the other hand was animated with a frenzy, all smiles with the charm of a shark.In the businessman’s arms, a man – no, a boy, lay still. The compass. ”The house was on the edge of London. A 1930’s style building, built by someone that had been wealthy in the inter-war years. White, with low railings stretching beside balconies that ran the length of the building, it looked as if an ocean liner dropped into the London suburbs.The two girls were standing in Gordon’s “playroom”. It had originally been a gym and still had the parquet wood floor and wall bars that had been installed when the house was first built. There was even a traditional,. So the night before she had decided to do something about it - sipping her glass of Pinot she had surfed the web for a replacement for her ex-boyfriend Chris's magnificent cock. As much of a prick as he'd been, and she was glad to be rid of him, his willing cock was sadly missed! 10 inches long and nearly 2 in diameter she has enjoyed every glorious inch of him each time he'd slid into her, pounding her to orgasm after orgasm as her dripping pussy gripped hard to his huge plunging. Her rented flat was only a hundred yards beyond mine. I walked her to the building’s front door. Chloe lifted our joined hands. ‘You’re sweaty, Malcolm. So am I. We’re both tired. I think we should wait a few days for a date. I want to be with you as a friend, but I’d like us to be feeling clean and cool. I know. Next Sunday evening would be good. You will have shut the shop at four and I’ll be home by five at the latest.’ ‘Next Sunday sounds good, Chloe. What do you want us to do?’ ‘Just relax.
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