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"And now ladies and gentlemen," announced Victoria again taking her place in center ring, "a rare feat which, as you will soon see, can never be duplicated. A young American who wishes to please you with what promises to be a most entertaining surprise. I give you... Kristy!As Victoria was leaving the ring to find a seat, Kristy, making her entrance, passed her Mistress."You are right, Mistress, Janeen is quite good... but I'm even better!"Her comment was met by a smile as Victoria swept her arm toward the ring and Kristy stepped into the light.The crowd was hushed as the robed girl walked to center ring and addressed them."Ladies and Gentlemen, I am a student of human cultures. Since antiquity many societies have seen fit to sacrifice their young women. Sometimes the village virgin was thrown into a roaring volcano to calm the volcano god or goddess. Sometimes her life was forfeited to assure a plentiful harvest and sometimes... it was her virginity which was offered upon an altar to. I came out and this really, really, really cute girl was crying while trying to tuck a sheet of paper under one of my wiper blades.Using my native charm (OK, mostly HER guilt), I got her to sit with me for a coffee. The coffee led to a date which led to more dates, then I proposed and finally we got married! Life was great and I had it by the short and curlies!Fast-forward 3 years; I was working as the Office Manager for the local branch of an office furniture manufacturer. Yah, we sold all that metal crap, but our real spot was top end executive desks and such. Hell, a full up office set was worth more than the equity in my house!“THAT” morning, Phil, the Branch Manager, came into my office holding a coffee mug in one hand and a, I shit you not, 5 inch thick stack of folders in the other. He sat in the guest chair as he laid that ominous pile of paper on my desk. “Sorry, Chuck,” he said as he looked down at the pile. He then looked up at me and said, “You have been doing a really.
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I’m not sure what he was, to be honest. He drank, mostly whisky, perpetually smoked a pipe and was never without a Racing Post. He always seemed to wear tweed trousers with a stain around the crotch. It was one of those giddy summer afternoons where kids are larking about with water pistols and everyone’s talking about the unbearable heat, having spent the previous seven months moaning about the cold. But isn’t it glorious, Val! Hotter than Magaluf, they say… I’d been scampering through the garden sprinkler in my new tie-sided bikini when it happened. One of the boys, Michael, I think, had tugged on the hosepipe and it caught my foot. It shouldn’t have been the surprise that it was. He’d spent the afternoon punching me in the arm and pulling my ponytail. Mum said it was horseplay. ‘It’s how boys flirt,’ she explained. Yanking the sprinkler’s rubber cord and sending me ass over tit in front of most everyone I knew was just another liberal smattering of grandiose affection,.

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