Click cover to enlarge it
My name is Gilsworth Jolvan, better known to my way-out friends simply as Grits. I am twenty-four years of age, as French as the fleur-de-lis, and have always been crazy about money and girls, a hell of a combination.
Money I have always had. My father, Oxford Shelby Jolvan, had owned sugar refineries in Plaquemine for as long as I can remember, and Louisiana has banked on sugar cane crops since the Civil War.
Girls I have not always had. But there wasn’t a skirt I had ever seen that I had not yearned to like and see what lay beneath. Not bragging, but I have lifted my share.
There never was a girl I couldn’t fuck, if I set my mind to it, or should I have said my prick. And I made it an art that they never pulled down their mini-skirts displeased. There never was a girl I had fucked that didn’t like to fondle my prick in its thick nest of black hair, and half the time they would end up kissing my nipples then sliding their tongues down past my navel to kiss my prick on the head. They would get all wild-eyed then, with a strange expression on their face, and all arms and legs and mouth, and I would just lay back with my hands behind my head and my thighs up and let them go to town!
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.