Rain spattered on the train window as one of the forecast rain squalls turned the summer sky an ominous black. I turned again to my book but my mind w...s filled with thoughts that were a far cry from George Eliot's 'Middlemarch'.Aunt Ellen that night, had shaken me to the core with her emphatic declaration that I must find somebody other than her.'You see, Simon, you can't spend your life moping around, wishing you were up here with me and neglecting your studies.' She moved closer in the bed. " Look at me, sweety. Do I really look like a real girl?"She stands back, puts her hands on her hips, and has a bemused look onher face.I look over her, her lovely red-lipped face, her thin arms, her tinywaist, her long legs, the curve of her hips, her...oh, there it is. That'swhy she wouldn't pass as a real woman. In her black spandex catsuit,right where a woman's smooth front would be, is the outline of a big fatcock, almost obscenely hard and pointing to the sky. I remember it in mymouth,. More

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