We ate rabbits and stuff from the garden grown wild, planted by Mom, cared for by God. Dad came back, gaunt, bearded, scars on his legs from shackles...he said. Did Dad take care of us? We took care of Dad. We did love him and in his way, his very own way, we think he loved us. We knew, somehow, he loved Mom and died, slowly, without her. He loved us but we were not Mom. We had a milk cow and from age six I milked. The milk probably saved our lives. When Bessie died we were thirteen. I walked. So I posted an ad, the content was simple, it had my stats, what I was looking for, and the caveat of no face picture required.This last bit was the hook, most men where I live want anonymity due to homosexual acts being frowned upon. Of course I received about 20 replies, weeded out many for not showing a pic of their cock (the important bits lol) and those who sent replies like "still looking" and nothing else. I replied to two guys, one a well muscled white guy who could host, and the other. More

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