That fateful morning, Bob made Ida a bouquet of gray roses from old newspapers and when he made her tea, he gave her the last cookie. He fashioned a handmade card from a folded piece of cardboard and in scribbled writing from his shaking hand, signed it, ‘I love you, Sweets, Bob.’ ‘Honey, turn up the heat. I’m cold,’ she said curling herself up in a tight ball. ‘I’ll get you another sweater, Sweets.’ ‘I am already wearing two.’ ‘Here is a blanket and if we sit closer together we will warm one another.’ Bob and Ida sat like that for hours until they untangled themselves from one another and moved their cramped bodies off the rickety sofa and headed to bed. Without electricity, they had no heat and no money to buy firewood. Too old and too weak to chop their own firewood, all they had to keep warm was wool and one another. Their telephone had been disconnected months ago for non-payment and, no longer able to drive, it was a mile hike through knee deep snow to the neighbor next door.. I opened my mouth wide and extended my tongue, which he slapped his big hard cock on a few times... making me even more curious about what it would feel like in my mouth. The bars were suddenly a frustrating inconvenience or perhaps a blessing, as when he shoved the fat cock in my mouth he couldn't push all ten inches in my mouth. I gagged on what I was able to take in even as I moaned as I wrapped my mouth around his cock, unable to stop myself from moaning on his cock like a bitch in heat. So hard. Strangely silky. As he began fucking my mouth, I started drooling. He stopped with seven inches in my mouth and ordered, "Get sucking, cock sucker." Being called a cock sucker only added to the humiliation, and, oddly, the excitement. I began sucking, swirling my tongue around the massive helmet-shaped head. Forgetting who I was, where I was and what I was supposed to be doing... the only thing that mattered was that glorious black cock in my mouth. His big, dominant, black cock. He.
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