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As she turned around I saw one side of her backside, I leaned over it and laid my face on it crying about my broken drum, the evening sunbeams made it...all bright, it had at some time been raining, I recollect.I expect I must have seen her cunt, as I sat beside her naked thigh. Looking towards her and crying about my broken drum, and when I saw her hand moving no doubt she was frigging. Yet I have not the slightest recollection of her cunt, nor of anything more than I have told. But of having. However, to me, looking at the headstone I'm standing in front of, it almost seems like God should be happy.Diana was a wonderful woman. She brought joy and happiness into the lives of everyone she touched. When I'm older, I want people to think about me the way they think about her. She always had a smile for everyone, whether she knew them or not. And again, I'm not much on religion, but it seems to me that if an ordinary person can be a saint, Diana, should make the cut.If I'm going to end. More

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