”“I’ll pour it,” Tom said from the table, “come and take the weight off,” as he turned an upturned cup in a saucer, “milk?”“Please.�...�“Sugar?”“Yes, two, please,” I sat myself down on a spare chair at the table.“What do you want for breakfast?” Linda asked, “we’ve got various cereals or porridge to start with, grilled bacon, eggs how you want them, toast, black pudding, sausages, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast.”“I’ll have some cornflakes, then bacon, poached or scrambled egg, and a round of. “Wow ... enormous and so sort of solid, very little sag. Think they real?” said Glen smoothing a towel.“My guess is yes. Oddly you don’t see many cosmetics here. There is an area where the model types go, men and women, cocks and tits to the fore, un-fucking-believable heh heh,” chuckled the older Vacher crudely, surprising his son.The retired barrister was turning out to be a real laddo in Glen’s view. Very rarely did Lachlan swear and they’d never had candid man chat about women. Now his gaze. More

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