What kind of friends they were Hal never asked, just as Cindy never asked about any girl friends he might have had before he had met her.Then, one Sat...urday, Cindy phoned Hal, and without a "hi dear" or "how are you" she said, barely getting the words out—"He's dead, they killed him with a landmine, Derek's dead!"In church, the next day, Cindy, her parents, and the congregation learned the sad news, hours before local television identified the soldier "from the greater metropolitan area" who had. My tits were swaying like small brown pendulums beneath me, my swollen nipples pointing at the floor, half an inch long and nearly black with excitement. I held the legs of that tall barstool with my fingers almost turning white in my efforts to keep myself steady. The padded cushion pressed comfortably against my soft tummy and I was riding that cock eagerly beneath Allen's passionate efforts to make us both cum."I thought I heard something down here," his father's voice echoed in the. I think it did.The night went out, we was both much more at ease with each other. Conversation flowed. Found out all about his life, his struggle with homophobia and everything that comes with been homeless in Britain. He also was interested in me, he wasn’t as I first thought jealous of envious of me but genuinely interested in my job, my family and my love life (or lack of). He yawned “Right I only have the one room, you take my bed. I’ll take the sofa.” I offered.“No I cant do that, I’ll. Would you like that, slave?” Before Diana could answer, he went on, “Well, it doesn’t matter whether you’d like it or not, does it, slave? You’ll do whatever I tell you to do because you’re my property now. Isn’t that right?”Diana felt a jolt between her legs as images of their last night together flooded her imagination, and she suppressed a moan before replying, “Yes, Sir. That...that’s absolutely correct, Sir.”“Very good, slave. I’ll see you on Saturday.” And with that, he.