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Twenty seventh of August nineteen hundred and eight. Dear diary. I have met him, the one, the man who I always knew was out there, the one who would make me his wife. It is so silly really, as our families have lived within a short horse ride for years. Unfortunately we are not considered to be right for their social standing as Daddy is a grocer and therefore trade. He is Sir Danbury Chandler and he is so handsome. I confess my heart almost stopped when first I saw him. His hair is deep brown with a lock that flops over his right eyebrow shadowing his lovely brown eyes. His face doesn't appear to be finished without the almost constant smile he wears. He is quite slim but not too tall, yet if I were to stand by him I would still have to look up. He is perfect. I am so happy that strangely he has no resemblance to his father, all that ginger hair and very pale-blue eyes within a pasty face ugh! It was quite by chance that I met him at his estate yard. I was riding by when I noticed. I gotta admit, Mr. Gibson is one helluva cocksucker. My pace had sped up and I knew I was gonna blow soon. With bothhands on the back of Mr. Gibson's head I pumped in and out of hismotherfucking mouth. I told him to get ready because I was gonna shoot myload right down his throat and he was gonna swallow every last drop. Hiseyes widened and he had a look of fear on his face. I didn't give a fuck.All of a sudden I started unloading a massive thick load of young hot blackcum into Mr. Gibson's throat, pushing his head all the way down onto mycock. The motherfucker didn't even gag. Still pumping in and out and hewas still swallowing. Just as I began to pull out I noticed out of the corner of my eye afigure standing at the door looking through the window. Instead of lookingI averted my eyes to the windows so I could see the person without lettingthem know and startling them. To my surprise, it was Mr. Dibiase the highschool music teacher. I figured he had been standing there.
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As the elevator hummed towards the top of the building, Kayd thought about her hit. Rumor had it that he stayed here, in his office building most nights. There had been an article about him in some magazine, as she recalled. He had admitted to having a bedroom adjoining his office. He worked late nights, and usually entertained several female clients and other women there. He had a home somewhere in the suburbs, but his visits there were far less than frequent. She had watched him for several nights, keeping tabs on his whereabouts, as well as his habits. He would return for the evening because it was a weeknight and he usually only went home on weekends. God, she hoped that she had been right about tonight. The stainless steel doors rolled open and she found herself in a dimly lit vestibule. A single lamp sat on a table beside the mahogany door that led to his office. She knew that this was his private office, where he rarely did work. It was more for uninterrupted study, and.

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