It is throbbing from my touch as I rub the tip with my thumb around and around feeling the pre-cum start to seep. I can feel and see his cock swelling...in my hand making me gasp, my breathing becoming shallow and warm in his ear. I bite on his shoulder scraping my teeth up his throat, causing him to jerk from the mixture of slight pain and pleasure. His breathing is becoming more rapid and I can feel him shiver slightly as I see his pussy fucker becoming hard; he is moaning from the intense. The other I took of a Valentine’s card I was given by a friend. He found it in an auction house in London where he was working. I used to go for long tramps over Hampstead Heath with my friend, followed by afternoon tea. I was very bad in those days at picking it up when someone admired me, rather like the heroine of my story. Only much later did I realise that my friend was one of many admirers. (RIP, dear Phil, I still often think of you.) The poems: are by George Gordon, Lord Byron, Alfred. More

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