David ran into her none too gently, but tried to absorb as much of the crash himself as he could, rolling with the impact and bringing her along with ...him. He fell hard on the dirt street and, tucking her into him, they rolled together to a stop. He jumped up and pulled her to her feet, immediately dropping to one knee in respect."I'm sorry Your Highness! I'm sorry! But you were about to be run over! I hope you aren't hurt!"She brushed off her dress. "No, I'm not hurt, just dirty. Thank you,. He did volunteer remodeling work on slum homes and a church, for pity’s sake.’ ‘It doesn’t make sense to us either, sir,’ Hayes said. ‘Everything we’ve learned so far says Mr. Brown was a model citizen. That’s why we don’t understand why someone would kill him and burn down his shop.’ ‘Wait a minute. Kill him? Are you saying his death wasn’t an accident? That someone torched the place after they killed him?’ ‘Preliminary investigation indicates the point of origin for the fire was the ground. I thought that was a wonderful idea for an erotic story. Unfortunately, like a lot of myths about Victorian sex and sexuality, it turned out not to be true, LOL, but I figured I would not let the ‘truth’ get in the way of a good tale. This was far too good a way of writing about repressed female sexuality to let go. The photos: I took one photo of a picture I cut out from a magazine article about a carousel. The other I took of a Valentine’s card I was given by a friend. He found it in an. At night, I could hear their bed banging against the wall and moaning noises coming from their bedroom. ‘Well, at least someone is getting laid,’ my teenage soul bitterly expressed. I tried once to masturbate while listening to them, imagining Tracy’s tits sloshing back and forth as I, not my Dad, pounded her, but it was just too creepy and my dick stayed limp. I wasn’t getting any action, but Viviana was getting laid a lot. My Dad and Stepmom were gone during the day, leaving Viviana and.