He’d understand when he asked me the question how I died. I’d tell him that I died happy. I’d tell him that I died with a big smile of my face. ...’d tell Saint Peter that I died while doing something that I love to do,’ said Angelo moving his hand back and forth. ‘I’d tell him that I died sharing myself with others who were less fortunate and who didn’t have me in their lives,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I’d tell him that I died giving pleasure to the masses of women kind, well, at least to three. Mom had insisted just because she liked my cock inside her that my school work wasn’t to suffer and that Janey was to let me get some sleep. On Wednesday night she allowed us both into her bed just after supper where we once again explored each other totally. She sent us back to our own beds at midnight and reminded us that she’d be watching. The next morning she scolded the pair of us for deliberately masturbating when we were alone in our own beds and insisted that such a tactic would never. More

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