Then no rains had come since Easter and now the pitiful remains of the grain crop seemed ready to dry up into dust. Come harvest time there would be l...ttle indeed to reap, and perhaps not even enough to set aside for seed next spring.Accordingly, it was a most somber Mid-Summer's Day Festival, as no one in the village felt much like celebration. The forthcoming harvest appeared to be non-existent and the likely prospect of famine that winter loomed. Our poor cobbler, normally a man who enjoyed. I’ve lost count of the men I’ve slept with. Serious relationships are counted on the fingers of one hand, but 1-offs and even longer relationships I have no idea. I love my husband and my k**s, my jobs, the holidays abroad, our 5-bedroom house, my SUV etc. Sex is ok-ish and I do have a fling with an old ex-workmate of mine from time to time and a season, semi-regular shag-buddy in our Spanish villa. No complaints. But when I masturbate all I think about is how he phuqued me.He was 53 and I was. More

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