Well, you can't smoke them or anything can you?Little Lamb who made youDo you know who made you?Gave you life and got you shornBy the stream and over ...he lawn;Gave you numbers on your coat, Twenty Six is what they wrote;Gave you such a groovy voiceMaking all the grass rejoice!Little Lamb who made youDo you know who made you?However, this poem sounds really feeble now the sheep have moved off to a different field. And I couldn't find a way to use the word 'fuck'. Or even less rude words like. It didn't satisfy me though because now I craved a cock. I wanted cock pounding me. Very soon! As we finished preparing dinner, I was quietly lost in the thoughts of what I'd witnessed. I was pouring wine when Sarah, my twenty-years-old daughter, walked in the door and came over to help. She was wet from her shower and smelled nice. We smiled at each other and she leaned to kiss my cheek. “Did you enjoy that mum?” she whispered. “I knew you were watching. You saw his big cock, didn't you?. More

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