Blue Lace --- “Female, 60's North Wales.” I checked the profile name. It didn't ring any bells but I replied. Welshwriter--- “Male, 60's North W...ales.” The screen went quiet for a moment then another message popped up.Blue Lace --- “Married?” I Welshwriter --- “No,” Blue Lace – “What are you doing?” Welshwriter --- “Just messing around on the computer.”Blue Lace --- “Me too. I bet you're looking at porn aren't you?”I was a bit shocked at her forwardness but replied that yes I was. Blue Lace ---. The memories immediately started cascading through my mind, bringing a smile to my lips. This journal, more than riches and deeds, is my final legacy to those I love.That's because today is Monday, May the 16th. The year is 2011.Historically, the sixteenth of May is not noticeably significant. A young Marie Antoinette, who was fourteen at the time, happened to marry a fifteen-year-old on May 16th. His name was Louis-Auguste and he later became King Louis XVI of France. Of course, you know how. Her curt and cynical laughter as she applauded the expulsion of his cream in absolute defeat, had Minter’s anus tingling at the depth of her cruel enjoyment. His masochistic desire could not help but be aroused to an erotic peak by the sound of her sadistic pleasure and the vista of the dark and inanimate clay monolith, now brought to life as it glowed under the baking heat of the sun; the dribbling essences confirming that a penitent male awaited the finality of its purpose, hopelessly. His touch did feel good, but her nipples were tender and she let out a soft yelp. He pulled back, and now the vines pulled her face down to his groin. Before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her head and forced his dick into her mouth. He pulled out and thrust into her agin. And again. Then he slowly pushed into her and deep-throated himself on her helpless face. A look of pleasure/pain was etched on her face; he was deeper than she thought any dick could go into her throat, but.