Six hot naked old women on a running machine
A scrambled chronicle of my family bondage
Fiction & Literature
| Author: | Peter Jalesh | ISBN: | 9783943142891 |
| Publisher: | BookRix | Publication: | June 28, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Peter Jalesh |
| ISBN: | 9783943142891 |
| Publisher: | BookRix |
| Publication: | June 28, 2012 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
My grand-grandparents had in their house a servant they brought long time before from Mexico. Her name was Freda. She had a big overflowing breast. Before she would put me to bed she'd take me in her arms and set my nose between her tits. I'll take a plunge there and get asleep very fast against my will. She smelled always like cayenne pepper mixed with basil. Sometimes before I went to sleep I could see a beautiful woman that grand-grandpa would call "the Blond Harlot" getting in and out of the pub. Most of the time she was dressed in black, with a low cut silk blouse and a short skirt - so short that I could see her panties - and wearing high hills shoes that made her look like she was stepping on hot coals. The warm breeze in the evening made me feel better than the midday hot wind. Then the warm breeze faded away to get replaced by a sandy wind. Within minutes the town got deserted. It was like the whole thing that used to move around would retire to rest. No more voices or laughs or curses: lights of the pub and houses around would gently go to sleep under blinds and rags.
My grand-grandparents had in their house a servant they brought long time before from Mexico. Her name was Freda. She had a big overflowing breast. Before she would put me to bed she'd take me in her arms and set my nose between her tits. I'll take a plunge there and get asleep very fast against my will. She smelled always like cayenne pepper mixed with basil. Sometimes before I went to sleep I could see a beautiful woman that grand-grandpa would call "the Blond Harlot" getting in and out of the pub. Most of the time she was dressed in black, with a low cut silk blouse and a short skirt - so short that I could see her panties - and wearing high hills shoes that made her look like she was stepping on hot coals. The warm breeze in the evening made me feel better than the midday hot wind. Then the warm breeze faded away to get replaced by a sandy wind. Within minutes the town got deserted. It was like the whole thing that used to move around would retire to rest. No more voices or laughs or curses: lights of the pub and houses around would gently go to sleep under blinds and rags.
