At the end of the evening Ashley recommends we have a nightcap back at my home. I know what that means. My body screams that I have to do it, my head still sputters a little. Ash does not wait. He takes my hand and guides us out.I live nearby. At home I open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses. Ash takes the two glasses from my hands and puts them on the table. He takes my hips and puts me in front of him. We don't talk; he wants to investigate. His hands disappear eagerly under my skirt and knead my buttocks. He licks my stomach and bites softly now and then. I go with it; I sit on him and kiss him. His hands drop to my thighs. My head is turned off and my body wins. How I want this, I want him. I take off my shirt and bra; his eyes glare at my breasts. As his hands continue to explore, I push my breasts into his face. He takes hold of my nipple and bites it gently. Then he stops, takes my hand, and takes me to the bedroom. He asks if everything is still in the same place and I nod. Moving from stall to stall, John found on sign of his son. That left only the hayloft where Bobby had called his warning. Feeling fairly secure, John paused to double check the old shotgun, snapping it open and verifying it had two shells in it. He started to climb the ladder up to the hayloft. "Bobby!" he whispered again. Peering over the ladder into the loft, he saw nothing at first.Bobby had been in the large door used to throw hay up into the loft. Now that door was shut making it almost pitch black, and hard to see anything. John carefully felt his way along the railing, and over to the door. He found the edge of the door and opened it, flooding the loft with sunlight. Trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness John squinted. "Bobby?" he whispered.Suddenly there was a scratching noise above him and a sledgehammer weight fell on his back knocking him to the hard wooden floor. Something slammed into his head, and John lost consciousness. It might have been minutes or hours, John.
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