Both times. Uncle Mitch’s deliberate fucking was guaranteed to make me cum. It was so much more sensual than Billy’s frantic fuck, in spite of all...of Billy’s empty words of love. Drivin’ real slow gets you home pretty fast.. The line from a song from one of the bands that Mom liked flitted through my mind, too relevant to be ignored, too irrelevant to interfere. That little bit of the song repeated itself over and over in my head, the message and the pounding drum track impossibly intensifying. Every two weeks, the monotony was relieved by the arrival of fresh provisions and mail from Sheerness. There was always a letter from his father in the mail bags, but once every four or six weeks, a letter from Harriet-Anne arrived too. She told him of her first forays into London’s society. She was staying with an aunt and attending various salons. She also wrote that most gentlemen attending those salons were useless idlers in her views, but that she had been introduced to a few men of. More

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