Yes, a troll. You know the kind. Lives under a bridge. Grumpy. Doesn't want company. A long time ago, I read a series of essays called Magic Harbor1, ...by a fellow named Don Berry. In one of the essays, he described himself as a troll. I find myself in a very similar physical and emotional situation. I live on my boat, not under a bridge - that doesn't work well with a real mast - and without the light in my life. I really don't want to interact with anybody and I don't even think about finding. I took the diaries, there were four large books, down to my room. I started reading them every chance I got. Now I will admit that my mom is a true Texas hottie. Big blonde hair, great shape, nice ass, big tits, and blue eyes. She will flirt up a storm. And I will admit that fucking my mom has crossed my mind a time or two. But never in a million years did I think that my mom would do something like this, even in her younger years. The more I read the more I was surprised by what my mom had. I would strip and let the men know I was there to please them. The idea of being on my knees and pleasing a group of horny black guys with my mouth gets me very hot. I imagined that after I sucked them all, I would let them have their way with me to do as they pleased. Just the thought of drinking all that nigger cum gets me so wet! One morning James called saying he would be in the area on business. I am always horny for black cock. I dropped my daughter off with my mother and hurried back. Alice, on the other hand had yet to open up and express any desires to sexually explore our relationship. She was content with her own idea of a civil marriage plan that included a husband with a monetary career, a nice suburban house, and a few kids. Beyond that she had no plans to expose herself to any of the sexual urges that I had told her about. Soon after this self realization clouded my mind, I found the internet a safe place to begin to explore my internal sexual dialogue.Amazingly, I.