You know the type? Brick buildings on mainstreet for one block. Drinking fountain donated by John B Turnpick the third in memory of his eldest son who...never came back from Korea. All that crap. And it was just sooooo purdy. And we started taking it apart. We claimed – those that lived – that they had been rude. They hadn’t, that was a lie. God don’t like lies. He put Milly, Bonzi’s old lady in boiling honey for that. Even a bad truth is better than a good lie, so he says. Heh man, I’m no. At firsthe was just rising us on the balls of his feet thensinking down to his heels. Then the bouncing became alittle more pronounced. As he accelerated of hismovements he sank in and out of me a little deeper.I was amazed at how full I felt. I knew that heprobably was deeper in me than any man had ever beenbefore, and he was probably only half way in. Butwithin the next few minutes, as he still held me up andbounced I began to become light headed as his big blackbaseball bat snaked deeper and. More

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