Number Two Cock
I have been asked by my good friend MJ what it was that brought me to Sleaford, Lincs.
This is Sleaford as described in the Reader's Digest Touring Guide To Britain:-
"Attractive cottages on River Slea beneath one of oldest stone spires in England atop 12th century St Denys' Church. Grassy hammocks mark Sleaford Castle, where King John's final fever was treated in vain."
I suppose I could say in hindsight, if it's good enough for King John, it's good enough for me and Peregrine. Because Sleaford is really the sort of place you come to to die. Although there's still a lot of life left in the two of us!
We set off one morning in 1994 in a mood of great depression. My wife Doreen, the "love of my life", had run off a few days previously with our ruddy faced milkmaid to set up a women's sandwich co-operative in Axminster. I had an inkling something was going on as there was never any bread in the house.
My brother Graham, his cock Willie Whitelaw, and his wife June, stepped into our shoes as I lost all interest in the world of dairy farming. They waved us goodbye as we sped off in our new Ford Fiesta. I stopped at the first layby I could, closed my eyes, opened the Reader's Digest Guide at a random page, and inadvertently stuck the pin straight into my finger. The blood dripped onto Sleaford.
The journey up to Lincolnshire was a wonderful release. As I drove at a steady 30 m.p.h., the wind rushing through my hair, my cock's head straining out of the front passenger window, I felt ten years younger. All those arguments with Doreen faded into the background, her constant nagging about me spending too much time alone with my cock.
After a couple of nights in a local B&B, we decided to settle in this two bedroom semi, which we are renting from a very nice landlord who has no objections to Peregrine having the run of the place. I don't think that would have been the case if I had a dirty cock.
Today's picture is from a friend of mine who lives in Carlisle (did anybody guess right?) called Russell Prout. Russ is only 16, but, as you can see, his taste in cocks is impeccable. Russ has just started his 'A' Levels in Politics, Economics, and Social Studies, and I think he has a big future ahead of him. Russ's cock is called Charles Clarke. Isn't he a beauty?
We will be off for a few days from tomorrow so I will get back to any comments left over the next few days on Wednesday or Thursday next week. I'm sorry if I've rambled on a bit on this post but the more I get into this blogging lark the more I want to reveal of myself. I hope I haven't lost all my readers.
See you later,
Love Giles
This is Sleaford as described in the Reader's Digest Touring Guide To Britain:-
"Attractive cottages on River Slea beneath one of oldest stone spires in England atop 12th century St Denys' Church. Grassy hammocks mark Sleaford Castle, where King John's final fever was treated in vain."
I suppose I could say in hindsight, if it's good enough for King John, it's good enough for me and Peregrine. Because Sleaford is really the sort of place you come to to die. Although there's still a lot of life left in the two of us!
We set off one morning in 1994 in a mood of great depression. My wife Doreen, the "love of my life", had run off a few days previously with our ruddy faced milkmaid to set up a women's sandwich co-operative in Axminster. I had an inkling something was going on as there was never any bread in the house.
My brother Graham, his cock Willie Whitelaw, and his wife June, stepped into our shoes as I lost all interest in the world of dairy farming. They waved us goodbye as we sped off in our new Ford Fiesta. I stopped at the first layby I could, closed my eyes, opened the Reader's Digest Guide at a random page, and inadvertently stuck the pin straight into my finger. The blood dripped onto Sleaford.
The journey up to Lincolnshire was a wonderful release. As I drove at a steady 30 m.p.h., the wind rushing through my hair, my cock's head straining out of the front passenger window, I felt ten years younger. All those arguments with Doreen faded into the background, her constant nagging about me spending too much time alone with my cock.
After a couple of nights in a local B&B, we decided to settle in this two bedroom semi, which we are renting from a very nice landlord who has no objections to Peregrine having the run of the place. I don't think that would have been the case if I had a dirty cock.
Today's picture is from a friend of mine who lives in Carlisle (did anybody guess right?) called Russell Prout. Russ is only 16, but, as you can see, his taste in cocks is impeccable. Russ has just started his 'A' Levels in Politics, Economics, and Social Studies, and I think he has a big future ahead of him. Russ's cock is called Charles Clarke. Isn't he a beauty?
We will be off for a few days from tomorrow so I will get back to any comments left over the next few days on Wednesday or Thursday next week. I'm sorry if I've rambled on a bit on this post but the more I get into this blogging lark the more I want to reveal of myself. I hope I haven't lost all my readers.
See you later,
Love Giles
posted by Geoff at 10:57 AM
11 Comments:
Great blog!
I know how you can make money from your big cock!
www.coxdeluxe.org
I made money here and it's lots of fun!!!
Thank you responding to my query. I know how difficult it is for you to put down your cock and take time out for blogging.
Sleaford sounds lovely. And I'm so glad to know there's lots of life left in your cock. And in you, of course.
Russ's cock is splendid!
Yes that cock will certainly rule the roost one day.
Beautiful Plummage on the Norwegian Blue!
I think the next cock will be from Manchester
Anon - Although I'm sure I could make money out of my cock, I am a man of principle.
MJ - Peregrine isn't as demanding as he used to be.
HE - But Russ's cock is only young. Will it be as smart as mine in a few years?
Ziggi - Mmm, Manchester? The cock capital of the North West? You'll have to wait and see.
You know Giles, the older I get the bigger part my cock plays in my life. I do think its wonderful that my interest in cocks has lasted so long. I so remember the day when, as a young man, I spent hours playing with my cock, and wondered to myself if it would ever be thus.
Picture will be with you shortly.
Tom - It would be great to see some grainy old black and white pictures.
I've got an old sepia photo of my grandad's cock somewhere in the loft. I'll have to dig it out and scan it.
I, for one, would be thrilled to see Tom's cock. I imagine he has an old Daguerrotype.
Tom, is it a Plymouth Rock?
Perhaps FG the next cock is from Devon then?
MJ - I too wonder what type he has.
Ziggi - Devon? Where you get cream teas? Maybe.
It's where you get Tom
Post a Comment
<< Home