The warmth of his mouth disappeared and I felt his hand again stroking me, guiding me to another entrance. Again spit was used to lubricate my cock an... his passage. I still didn’t know what was happening, but through that hole I realised that I was fucking his arse, not for my pleasure, but for his.I withdrew after a while, not really enjoying it and sat back on the toilet seat trying to reawaken my slightly soft penis. I heard some shuffling of clothes and things from the next cubicle, and. Food? Kill the rabbit. Dad, bless his soul, raised rabbits. He sold the fur — we ate the rabbits. Like chickens which we had also... lard in the pan and fry very crisp. Chicken or rabbit — sometimes chicken and rabbit.One day the rabbits were gone. We were twelve then and Dad was away for several months. I knew how to trap rabbits and found out they were just as damn dumb as chickens. We ate rabbits and stuff from the garden grown wild; planted by Mom, cared for by God.Dad came back, gaunt,. More

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