"Peace", he said. He showed me his hands, and they were the hands of a real working class man. Scarred, rough, but nimble and clever, made to twist kn...bs, match gears, or hold spanners. That's when I wondered how his cold, uneven fingers would feel on my skin."I'm Charles Owen, and I'm a union man. I'm a worker, just like you are, and I've known tough. I've been beaten and jailed by the coppers and I am still fighting." A union? We don't hold with your bolshie lot hereabouts!" said Harry, my. The feeling of the silky white knickers on my cock and the wetness of her pussy on my balls had kept hard all the time she away so there was a definite bulge in my pants when she opened the door. Hazel spotted it straight away and smiled but didn’t say anything and we made our way to the lounge. Once we were there Hazel poured us both a coffee and we sat, side by side on the couch. Straight away Hazel looked down at my groin again and once again smiled. “Mmm,” she said, “it looks like my. More

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