Eventually though I had to try and have some sort of life, even if it was without her. That's how I ended up as a troll.Yes, a troll. You know the kin.... Lives under a bridge. Grumpy. Doesn't want company. A long time ago, I read a series of essays called Magic Harbor1, by a fellow named Don Berry. In one of the essays, he described himself as a troll. I find myself in a very similar physical and emotional situation. I live on my boat, not under a bridge - that doesn't work well with a real mast. He continues to pound me for all im worth. He lets go of my hair and grabs my hips, pulling me to him as he thrusts. He thrusts into me with enough force that I could feel his balls slapping against my clit. My whole body was on fire, every touch and sound threatened to send me over the edge. “Fuck me” he grunts. I push back against him, matching him thrust for thrust. My tits swing in rhythm, my nipples rub against the sheets adding to my insanity. “Do you want to cum?” he asks.“Yes. More

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