Winchester Cathedral, the place of his bishopric, used to have a shrine to St Swithin, patron saint of weather. Perhaps a prayer to him, in Winchester...Cathedral, might improve the weather for tomorrow? At first the roads were dry and traffic was light. Once I had passed Guildford the rain started. My windscreen wipers, vacuum driven from the manifold, coped except when I had to climb a hill when they stopped dead. The car was behaving. If it kept running like this I should have no trouble this. I missed you so much. Yea, that’s it baby. Right there. Yeah, oh honey that feels good. Real good. Yeah, that’s it. Take it all,! Yeah, more, down your throat. Ohhhhhhh, man, that feels wonderful. You’re the best cock sucker in the whole fucking world.” I was so fucking hot doing this. I knew that everyone in the wings could only see my head bobbing up and down in John’s lap. Because of the high sides of the chair, no one could actually see my mouth wrapped around his lovely black shaft. No one. More

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