"No" she moaned, but she didn't mean that, because she was instantly erect again. "That's never happened to me before." She grabbed my dick and looked... down at it. "I wonder what would happen if I sat on this thing," she mused. "Would you bust inside me if I did"? "Keep talking like that and I'll bust right here and we won't get to find out." I responded. "I've never ridden a black man's cock before. They're all so big and they hurt." "Gee, thanks," I growled. "This one is big, too, though," she. The other had a wound on the back of his head suggesting he had been hit with some force by a blunt object. The angle of this blow had taken the forensic team back to the farm where marks were found on the roof directly above the back door.The report ended by suggesting that the dead man had been set on fire. The evidence pointed to someone hiding on the roof of the farmhouse with a rubber container filled with petrol and butane. The container had been burst using the sharpened stick, probably. The thought surprised her and exhilaratedher at the same time.She arrived at the coffee shop just before Jeremy went up to recite hispoetry. She sat at a table alone and sipped a glass of wine while shelistened. His work was definitely that of an amateur, but there wassomething so raw and so honest about it that she felt herself fallinginto the world he described. His poetry spoke in themes of confinementand escape, and she felt as if he were talking about her. She had beenconfined to being one. There were times that he had put off a major decision until he'd had the chance to do the Camden trip, just so he could consider the options without being bothered by yelling children, ringing telephones, angry subscribers, or other such interruptions.The problem that Mike was thinking about this morning wasn't the one he'd had on his agenda, though; this one had come out of the meeting of the Spearfish Lake City Council the night before. It hadn't been a major item at the meeting, and Mike.