Anyway, after a few weeks of hanging around I was called back in again to meet the two of them. In front of everyone B gave me the good news, and then...said, “We need to discuss the details. You will join me for a meal.”With a wave of her hand she dismissed everyone—including the F-Man, to my amazement. A richly laid table was whisked in, set for two, the food and wine followed, and in no time we were sitting there, completely alone.“I can’t begin to tell you how delighted I am, y—”“Stop,” she. While I managed to stop ejaculating as soon as her fingers disappeared between her legs, I just loved watching that girl. While 'I' was over two hundred years old my body was just eleven. And boys at that age are just hormone time bombs waiting to go off.I should mention one thing here, growing up is great. It's a wonderful experience. ONCE! Twice is sort of OK. The third time is boring, after that forget it.One thing that happened every time was Helen McCleavy's death. She was killed by a hit. More

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