She was Helen, Mrs. R--. originally from the hills of Virginia, whose absent husband had been in Gates' no-longer-existent army. She had no idea where...he was or whether or not he still lived."He was a good man," she said proudly, "not jus' a gentleman farmer. He worked this land, and we never owned slaves, always hired. I'm raising his four children, our children."The home she led me to was square and plain. Smoke trickled from the brick chimney and ducks and chickens scattered in the backyard. ***What should have been a pleasurable dénouement to our memorable climaxes quickly escalated into horseplay for the benefit of the video camera. Jeff partially knelt and straddled my head with his still-rigid, glistening organ suspended just above my lips. I remained supine on the couch, silky bands of sperm coating my face, and peppered his tumescence with kisses while excited voices on the DVD’s soundtrack digressed in the background. “You’re incredibly sexy,” my husband shared as he helped. More

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