I could still hear my grandmother telling me the stories when we would visit what she called "the knoll of death with the tree that weeps."I kneeled b...fore the new marble slab, shiny with the dampness, and read the sharply chiseled inscription:And this was my belovedSara Jane LaneWife of Tom, Mother of Sara AnneForever part of their hearts1976 — 2006My thoughts wandered to the small gathering yesterday afternoon under the weeping tree, sadly huddled together under the misty, cold drizzle of an. I had to peek over. Shit. He caught me. Our bladders were finished emptying at the same time. He just stared at me staring at his cock. I looked up, into his chestnut brown eyes. "You like what you see?" Damian asked, shaking the last drops of his piss out of his member. "It's okay of you do, I'm bi you know. Everyone knows." As if in a trance, I nodded. I noticed he was now semi-hard. Instantaneously, I was too. The next thing I knew, we both had boners. His was probably the same length as. More

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