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The Slave Show (9)

When we got “home” Julie came up and ran her finger lightly around the collar.  “It suits you, Steve”, she said laughingly.

“Suits me? To mark me as a slave?”

“No, silly!  It’s kind of sexy –  a woman would like to play with that as she lay close to you in bed….”

“Not much chance of that, then”, I muttered.

“Oh Steve, I am sorry…. I didn’t mean…..  Look, shall I get Dan to find a woman for you?  There are some owners who want their female slaves to have regular sex as it keeps them ‘content’, or so my magazines always say…. If there’s a any of them around here, he could arrange for you to go over and service them….”

“Julie, for Christ sake!  I’m a man…..  You can’t have someone else fix up for me to go and fuck….”

“Steve!  Mind your language!”, Dan cut in.  “I won’t have you talking like that around here.  And it’s not such a bad idea, you know – you’ll probably be healthier, and in a better temper overall, if you’re getting regular sex:  it works for the male slaves as well as the females, I guess.  And perhaps there’s a fee involved – it would be another source of income from you.  And then there’s always the possibility of hiring you out as a pleasure boy for some older lady – although I understand they generally want the younger, twenty-year olds with slender bodies… But perhaps some are looking for a real he-man to give them a go…”

“Dan, please…”.  I sounded helpless and pathetic, I know.

“Steve’s right, Dan!  You can’t turn him into some sort of prostitute!  It’s one thing to get him to work on the site, and the occasional photoshoot’s all right – everyone likes to look at pictures of handsome men, after all, and we got him to ‘show’…. But we can’t turn him into a prostitute, taking money to get him to service women….”   I was glad Julie was on my side on this one!

Dan just shrugged.  “OK, Jules.  But if I’m at a Show, and I get offered a big stack of cash, I might reconsider.  It’s not as if it’s illegal or anything…. After all, if it was a dog we were showing, and he won, they’d be lining up to pay stud fees.  It’s only the same sort of thing….”

“Dan, Steve’s a man, not a dog!”

“No, Jules.  He’s not a dog.  But you keep forgetting – and I think he does, too – that Steve’s not a man, he’s a slave.  And things are different for slaves.”

“Daniel, I will not, I repeat not, have you sell Steve off for casual sex!  For one thing, he might catch something – and he’s living here in the house, sharing our things….”

“OK, OK! I hear you.  But if it’s a really big chunk of money, I’ll still think about it.  Now, can we have a mug of tea?  And I think Steve would like one, too – ‘sexy’ Steve, that is!”  Dan was smiling now and kissed Julie lightly, and all seemed to be well.

Dan willingly took me to football the next morning and this time I had nice clean fresh kit – Julie had put two sets into Dan’s holdall – and the other lads were glad to see me again.  And in the showers afterwards most of them wanted to feel my collar, too – I suppose it was so unusual to see a bloke wearing stuff around his neck now, and several of them could remember having necklaces and stuff when they were kids before the new laws came in.  As they stood there fingering my collar the couldn’t help brushing against me as they were generally thinner and a bit shorter than me, so had to stand close and reach out. And as they did so I could feel their cocks brushing against my thighs and bum:  it was amazing, really, how ordinary blokes didn’t seem to mind this, even though they leapt away if they got too close to one of their mates like that.

Julie gave us a smashing lunch, made all the better by the three pints in my belly which was spreading a cheerful glow through me, but afterwards, once she’d finished the washing up, she told Dan that she was going to take Shane and go and visit her sister.  “You men just lie around all afternoon, tired out and full of beer”, she explained lightly “And when I do make you go out, you’re all grumpy.  So I’ll leave you and Steve in front of the TV to sleep off lunch, and we’ll have supper when I get back.”

Dan got up then and fussed around helping her load the car, then came and sat back on the sofa by me and flicked the TV on.  In spite of the excitement of the game, the combined effects of the beer and the meal made even me start to doze off, and it was having the same effect on Dan, too.  Just as he had the previous week  his head slumped on my shoulder, and soon his whole body was leaning against me.    I was drifting off into sleep, in that supremely comfortable state when you’re losing conscious control, and it was somehow comforting to have his weight against me and the warmth of him against my skin.

It was all somehow so companionable, and I felt all safe and secure and kind of happy – well, a hard game, good food, a few drinks…. You know how it is. Then, and I could hardly understand what was happening at first, I felt something around my neck, something smooth and sensual, and after a few seconds, it was on my lips.   I shot awake instantly and sat bolt upright.  Dan was there, so close to me, and I realised he’d been holding my face and was about to kiss me!  He looked startled, and ashamed….

“What the fuck…?”

“Steve, it’s OK…..”

“Dan, what the fuck were you about to do?”

He sat there for a few seconds, silent, and then almost whispered “Steve, it’s OK…. I’m sorry…. I forgot myself….”

“What do you mean?”

He was silent for a longer time then, and I could almost sense the seconds ticking by.  Then that whisper again.  “Steve, I like you….”

Another long, pregnant pause.  “….I wanted to touch you, to feel you, to kiss you, Steve.”

His voice changed so that he was almost sobbing, very gently, now “…I’m desperate, Steve.  I’ve been with you all week, watching you, having you close…. And then in the showers today, seeing you there with all the other lads touching you, and I couldn’t as they’d think it funny as I could touch you any time  I wanted to here a home….  I can’t stand it, Steve.  I can’t bear being this close to a bloke like you, and not being allowed to touch….”

His head was down now, as if he was trying to avoid looking at me, as if he was totally ashamed at what he was saying.  We sat there in silence, and it became almost unbearable: the silence was so profound – or, rather, the silence between us was so profound – as the TV was still blaring away its inanities in the background, but neither of us was listening.

There comes a point when silence is actually painful, and I could bear it no longer.    “Dan, it’s OK….”

“No, it’s not, Steve.  It’s not OK.  I love Julie, but I want you, too, Steve.  And it’s not OK, as we can’t be together… “

I just sat there, wondering what the fuck was going to happen now.  It was a s if a floodgate had opened, though, as Dan went on and on.  “I picked you, Steve, from all the other slaves.  I thought it was because you’d be a good show slave, but I think I knew it was because I fancied you, really.  Then I got to see you naked, and to run my hands all over you…. Oiling you for the show…. I thought I was going to explode I was so turned on.  And having you living here, seeing you when I wake you up in the morning, as you’re so sexy with that overnight growth of beard and the way you smile as you sleep…  And having you in the bathroom…. And seeing you erect at the photoshoot, and watching you fuck….  And knowing all the time that I can’t have more, that it can’t be me with you, Steve….”

I felt so sorry for the bloke, as he sounded so utterly wretched.  It was madness, or, rather, a human reflex to try to comfort someone in trouble:  I put my arm around him and hugged him.  “Dan, it’s OK….”

Dan’s hand came up and held my chin gently, then he pressed his face close to mine.  I could feel his warm breath on my face.  I wanted to move away, but something stopped me.

He could feel my acceptance, I’m sure, and pressed closer.  Then his lips were on mine:  I ought to have been revolted, I ought to have been hitting out at him and pushing him away.  But I didn’t.  And then I felt his tongue pushing at me, forcing its way into my mouth…. And I responded.

Look, I’ve never kissed another bloke before.  And I suppose I’ve never had a really passionate session of deep snogging with a woman, either, as on most of my one-night stands we get through all that sort of stuff pretty quickly so we can get down to the real business. And most prostitutes won’t kiss you at all, anyway.  So I had absolutely no experience of how marvellously exciting it could be just to stay there, mouths locked together, our tongues beating away as we hungrily explored each other.  Reflexively, my arms went around him, as if I wanted to hold him close to me rather than push him away as I ought to have been doing, and in turn his hand that was not caressing and stroking my face went down and started to fondle my crotch.  It was so wonderfully exciting that I moaned, and as I did so, Dan seemed to accommodate me, pushing his tongue deeper into me, and synchronising his breathing with my own fast breaths as my excitement quickened.

I’d never felt like this.  Never wanted another man to be so close to me.  But there was no stopping now – Dan’s hand slipped under my T and ran up my belly, and shivers of excitement went through me, and as his warn, moist palm cupped my left nip I moaned again, as I felt my body reacting my making my nip all stiff under him – so stiff that it was almost painfully sensitive.  I knew my cock was straining, too, and I had to do something:  I broke away from him briefly so I could tear my T off, and to my astonishment found myself lifting his, too, to drag it over his head, not caring if it hurt his ears as it went past!

And now our two naked chests were together, and I entered a whole new world of sensuality – the feel of Dan’s chest hairs rubbing over me, the warm moistness of his pits as my hands probed all over him, the moans he gave when my fingers teased his nips and they too became like pieces of stiff rubber to my touch.    Our hands raced up and down, we embraced, hugged, scrabbled, writhed.  We were making utterly incomprehensible noises – somewhere in there was “Dan” and “Steve”, but a whole lot of other stuff, too… mostly “Oh” and “Fuck”, but it didn’t matter – we knew that was the language of lust, the way that two people got close together.  Words don’t matter – only the tone, and the urgency.

We had to break off, as our passion was too great.  We sat there, looking at each other, not daring to allow our hands the delight of being in contact with the other’s body.  We were both sweating, and breathing hard.

His eyes locked on to mine, as if challenging me to say or do anything, Dan reached down and undid my belt, and unzipped my jeans.  I knew instinctively what to do, and pressed my feet to the floor and raised my hips,  so he could pull my clothes down and over my knees.  Then, once again, he head darted down and his lips closed around my cock.

It was too much – the ecstasy of the feeling, the brush of those warm moist lips that only moments before had been kissing me.  I felt I was going to shoot, but didn’t want to – I wanted to prolong this moment for ever and ever.  My hands raced over his bare back, as I tried to “connect” with him even more, and as he worked away at me my frenzy and lust rose.

I pushed his head upwards off me, quite roughly, and as he sat there for a moment, looking startled, I reached down and almost tore his jeans open, so that he could then scrabble away getting totally naked.

There was no stopping us then – we locked arms, and our legs writhed and intertwined as if we were  two pieces of hot wax that wanted to be melded together totally into one.  I could smell his scent, his sweat, his maleness, and feel our two cocks brushing against each other as we writhed around, totally consumed by our passion.

And then he went  still, and responding to this, I did, too.  He reached up and held my face, tenderly. We lay there a moment, aware of the sensations running through our bodies as they pressed close together. Then he whispered quietly “Fuck me, Steve.”

I didn’t know how to respond.  I didn’t know what to say.  Somewhere, something said that I ought to be forcing him away, cursing him, telling him I wasn’t a queer and I didn’t fuck blokes.  But it was buried deep, very deep, and there were other sensations, other thoughts, other passions, passions that were much stronger, that screamed at me to do as he said, to consummate this period of passion in the only way that men had.  I needed to fuck him, I needed my cock to slide between his buttocks, to possess him totally and completely, to  show him – and me – what two men were capable of.

Now it was me who kissed him, and this time it was my tongue forcing its way into his mouth.  And it was my arms that enfolded him, my hand that went down and massaged his balls, and stroked his warm, rock-hard cock.  And as I did this, my other hand started to explore the crack in his bum, my finger probing down there, into the warmth and moistness where  I had never gone before with any man.  He moaned when my finger tip touched his pucker, and this only inflamed my senses, and I renewed the frenzy of my kissing and stroking of him.  And as he in turn responded to me, I felt my finger slide into him, which only gave us both further feedback as to what we wanted to do – no, what we needed to do.

I broke away, and stood up, then reached down and almost picked him up, so that I could lay him over the arm of the sofa, feet on the floor, and his bum pointing up to me.  He was muttering, almost incoherently, “Yes, yes, Steve, please…..” And now I wanted to do it, no,  I needed to do it.  I’d lost all my concerns for fucking a man.  I knew that this was what men were meant to do – to show their love for other men in the closest and most intimate way possible.  But at the same time to show that one man could control and dominate another – Dan might be my owner, and have control of my life, but when it came to fucking I was definitely the boss.

My cock was rock hard, almost painfully so, as I stood behind Dan and pressed the front of my thighs forward to press against his.  I pried his bum apart and held it open with one hand, whilst running my cock down the crack with the other – I almost shot there and then, so intense was the sensation coming to me from my cock head.  And Dan felt it too, as he was moaning sensuously, and moving his bum as if to entice my cock even closer.   I’d have wanted to play like that for a long time, but I knew I did not have that time as I was so intensely aroused and knew that my orgasm could not be long delayed, so I positioned my cock head at his sphincter, and began to push gently.

Dan was almost shouting now… “Yes, Steve, fuck me, please, Steve…. Yes… Fuck me….” And this was adding to my excitement.  But it’s hard to make that first penetration, isn’t it, and I was afraid of hurting Dan so I tried to push harder, to no avail.  I had to pull back slightly and thrust my hips forward with a great stab – Dan shouted, almost scaring me, but my cock sent a shiver of sensation thrilling through me as its head found that perfect tight warmth that it so needed.

Look, Id like to say that it was all slow and sensual, that it was the longest and best fuck I’d ever had in my life – and I could say that and you wouldn’t know. But, in truth, it wasn’t like that at all:  I started to push my cock in as Dan gasped and moaned and cried out, and when I was buried in to the root I leaned forward so that my chest was in total contact with his sweating back.  I bit gently at his shoulders and he moaned in ecstasy, and I whispered “OK?”

“Yes…. Fuck me, Steve…. Please….”

So I did.  I wanted to be gentle, I wanted it to last, but those of you who are aggressive tops will know that it’s simply not possible – well, not the first time in a night, anyway:  you can slow down on the third or forth fuck, but on the first, once you’ve got started, you can’t control yourself, can you?  Well, I can’t, and I began to thrust hard into Dan, revelling in the slapping sound as my body crashed into his bum, and even enjoying that wonderful pain from my balls as they crashed forward into him on each stroke.  I could hear Dan starting to shout, and that only added to my excitement, and I knew I had him under my control, helplessly skewered on my cock.  I thrust away, but knew that it was all over – I gave a great shout, to match Dan’s, as my balls contracted and my spunk shot up into him as my back arched and my head was thrown backwards.

I only stood there an instant before I again fell forward on to him, grabbing his sweaty arms and running my hands up and down them in passion as I pushed my face down between his neck and shoulder.  I was laughing, crying, moaning, muttering incoherent words, I was so happy.  And Dan was too –  he did his best to turn his head to face me, and his mouth was grappling towards mine, trying to seize my lips and bite at me in the fury of our shared passion.

Time seemed to have no meaning, but at some point I pulled my now shrunk cock out of him, and being disgusted by the ass juice all over it, loped up the stairs to clean myself up in the bathroom.  I did one of those long, introspective looks at myself in the mirror above the washbasin as I washed my cock, staring into my own eyes and wondering what I’d really done, and what I should make of it.  And what did I now know differently about myself?  But I was still too inflamed with the sheer joy of what we’d done to delay long, and I almost ran down the stairs to throw my body alongside Dan’s, who had now sprawled full length on the sofa.

We kissed, we stroked each other, we explored our bodies, revelling in the maleness of each other, all the time whispering and giggling as if we were schoolboys who’d just discovered a fabulous secret. If only you could stop the clocks, this is the moment I would have chosen – I was totally, utterly, completely happy in a way that I had never been before.  Not only had I had the most perfect sex, but now I was sharing this complete intimacy with another man who was revelling in it as I had been.  I had never had sex before where both partners were so completely in tune with each other, and with what had gone on.

The world does not go away though, does it?  Dan suddenly went quiet, then serious.  He lay in my arms, our legs intertwined and our cocks pressed close together, and I knew it was over as he stopped rubbing himself against me and caressing me.

“Oh fuck, Steve!  What have we done?”

“Pretty good sex, if you ask me….”

Dan was quiet, and I could feel the tension building in him as he realised the implications of our love making, and began to see a horrible future.

“Steve…. Look…. There’s a problem….”

“You mean you’re worried I’ll tell Julie?”

One of those long ominous silences, then, in a tiny voice, “Yes.”

“Dan, don’t be so fucking stupid!   We’ve just done the best thing that two blokes can do, I reckon.  I’ve just had the best sex I’ve ever had…. You’re special to me, Dan…. I wouldn’t do anything like that, to hurt you…. Or to hurt Julie:  she’s good to me, Dan, treats me like a man, not like a slave.  I don’t want to hurt her, to split you two up, especially a she’s going to really need you with the baby coming… And what about Shane?  He needs a dad, and you know that would be almost impossible if a divorce judge heard you’d been fucking with guys….”

Dan lay there in silence for a few moments. I think my words had added new terrors to his own.  “But you’re my slave, Steve.  How can I treat you like a slave, when we’ve just done all that…”

“Well, I understand it’s not unknown for owners to fuck slaves…. It’s a bit unusual perhaps for the owner to like taking the slave’s cock… But I guess it’s possible to let life go on.”

Dan was silent for a few more moments, as he thought. Then he pressed himself close to me, took my face in his hands, and looked deep into my eyes.  “But it’s not like that, is it, Steve?  This wasn’t an owner and slave just having a bit of casual sex.  It was more than that for me…. And I think it was for you too, wasn’t it?”

I felt my voice shaking.  I wasn’t used to this.  I’m Steve, big, strong, I’m-in-control, tough, Steve.  I’d never fucked a bloke for pleasure before tonight, and now I was being asked to say that it was good – no, more than that:  that it wasn’t just the sex, but something else between us.  I didn’t say things like that to other men.  Not me, Steve, Steve who fucks women, Steve who brags about his prowess.  I didn’t say, couldn’t say, that I liked the feeling of another man against me, that I revelled in the sensations that Dan’s body caused mine, that I was excited to have him close to me like this…. Men didn’t say these sorts of things to each other.  At least not in my world, the world of tough men:  that was what queers did, falling in love with other blokes….   And as that thought went through me, I groaned:  the awful realisation struck me that this might be what had happened…. No, it couldn’t be – two men couldn’t just do that, couldn’t “fall in love”, especially after just one fuck, magic though it was.  But of course I’d lived with Steve, seen him at close quarters, as another man would not have seen him.  I hated the way he treated me as a slave, yet I respected how he was doing it to try to make a better life for his family.  I realised this was stupid – I was all screwed up.  I wasn’t thinking straight.  And then the realisation that perhaps that’s what “love” does to you – it stops you thinking straight….

“Dan…. That was a great fuck…..”, I managed to say.  But I couldn’t make myself say more.  I wanted to, I think.  I wanted to tell Dan that I loved him, but I never used that word, had never used it before. And I certainly had not even thought of using it to another bloke.

Dan turned his head away, and I knew he was bitterly disappointed.  “Yes, a great fuck, Steve”, he whispered.

I wanted to kiss him, wanted to crush him tight to me, wanted to tell him I loved him… but I couldn’t.

Dan untangled his body from mine, almost coolly pushing my arms off him and my hands away from his body.  “Come on, Steve…. Let’s open a window or something…. It must reek of sex in here….”

We dressed in silence, almost deliberately avoiding looking at each other even though our bodies held not the slightest shred of mystery from each other now (not that there had been much before, after all, as we’d been naked together.  But there’s that special intimacy, that special revelation, that only comes after sex).  And when Julie came home we were both sitting primly, side by side on the sofa, watching some American football game on the satellite – I don’t know whether I couldn’t make sense of it because the rules seem incomprehensible at the best of times, or whether my entire brain was still focussed on trying to understand what had happened to us just an hour before.

Dan gave me my cue, though, as he just treated me perfectly normally for the rest of the evening – correcting me when I inadvertently swore when we were eating the delicious supper Julie made for us, never asking me what I wanted to watch on TV but clicking channels whenever he chose to, and then telling me not to watch TV any more as he and Julie went upstairs, as we had to be off early the following morning as usual.

I lay there in the dark, unable, or perhaps not wanting, to sleep as I tried to make sense of what had happened.  But of course I couldn’t.  And it was no clearer the next morning when Dan shook me awake as usual, shouted at me to pull my clothes on quickly, and we raced to the station for the train.  Still, now I had my collar on I noticed Dan simply slept all the way into London – little weedy blokes getting on and seeing me sitting there with the glint of steel showing in the neck of my polo seemed to take a perverse pleasure in commanding me to give them their seat, without Dan needing to intervene.

It was like that all week, too – “routine”:  get up, train to the site, slave away, rush to Liverpool Street, supper, and sleep.  Dan made no mention of what had happened, and it was as if he had erased it totally from his memory.  I almost began to doubt my sanity, wondering if it wasn’t just some sick fantasy that I had imagined, some perversion my brain had conjured up to make my life a little more tolerable. But on Friday we got away especially early, and caught the train half an hour before the one we normally raced for.  We left the station as usual, owner and slave, and began to walk briskly home along the footpath and lane – until about half way Dan suddenly stopped, took my arm, and pulled me off the path into the woods.

It was dark by now, and we stumbled in the grass, until we were no longer visible from the path. Then Dan threw his arms around my neck, and began to kiss me.

I couldn’t help it.  I responded, my own passion driving my tongue deep into him, and my hands scrabbling at his back as I pulled his shirt out of his trousers so I could get my hands on to his skin. I felt his hands tearing at my jeans, desperate to get at my cock, and I too went at his, my need to feel him, hard and warm, overcoming all my inhibitions.  We were almost in a frenzy, until Dan muttered “Easy, Steve…. I can’t go home with torn clothes….”, and that stopped me.  Stopped me dead.

“Dan, what the fuck are we doing?  You’re on your way home to your wife, for fuck’s sake?”

“Steve, I want you.  I need you.  I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you all week…. This is our only chance, as we got away early.  And all weekend we’re going to be busy, at the Essex Show at Clacton….  I need you, Steve… Come on….”

“No! It isn’t right…”

“Not right, Steve?  How can anything that two men do together willingly not be right?  I’m not forcing you, am I?  I didn’t notice me having to order you, as a slave, to have sex last Sunday night.  And it wasn’t just sex, was it, Steve?  I know it wasn’t for me, and I don’t think it was for you, either….”

I mumbled “No, Dan… You’re on your way home…”, not wanting to address his point directly.

“But it’s you I want, Steve.”  Dan was silent for a moment.  Then it sounded as if he was straining, reaching for the words.  “Look, Steve, I love Julie. And Shane.  And if I had my time over again I wouldn’t change that. Not any of it.  But now I’ve met you, Steve, and I…. I….  I love you, too.”

“Dan, you can’t fuck with me, and then go home to Julie…..”

Dan’s face was still very close to mine.  He leant forward and kissed me again.  “Steve, you don’t understand… You can’t understand…. You’re a bloke who’s always been in charge, always had the courage and strength to do whatever he wanted.  And people think I’m the same – I had to struggle to get to university and work bloody hard, and carry on working hard to get a good degree…  And then I met Julie, and against all the odds  I got her to marry me…. And people see me struggling now to make it right for her and Shane and the baby, and respect me for it…. But I’m not like that, really, Steve:  I do it all because I have to.  I’d rather just lie quietly somewhere and let the world go past.  I hate making the running, hate having to make decisions all the time, hate having to take responsibility for my family…..  I can force myself to do it, as it’s the right thing to do, but I hate it.”

He stopped for a moment, sucking air, in the grip of a tremendous emotion, and his voice lowered as he went on “And then I saw Steve, and thought of this plan to make money, and bought you…. All the time being ‘in charge’, ‘making the running’, ‘making all the arrangements’…. Until last Sunday.  And that was the first time for a very long time that I relaxed, that I had perfect happiness, that I let someone else take charge, let someone else make the decisions, drive the whole thing…. Whilst I just did what I long to do, and let it all happen to me.  You can’t understand, Steve, as you’re not like that:  you just take charge naturally.”

He paused again.  “Look, you’re a natural at taking charge, and you just do it as you can’t imagine any other way of doing things.  And so for you, being a slave is terrible – every time someone gives you an order and you have to obey, you hate it.  I’ve seen you on the train, when you have to stand up for some little jumped-up prick….   But it’s only the occasional things like that, isn’t it?  For most of the time you do what you want – we say ‘dig that trench’, but you decide exactly how… You’re still mostly in charge of your life.  But for me it’s perpetual, it never ceases:  I have to be in charge all the time, and I never get a moment off to do what I like – to let someone else run things.  Imagine how you’d feel if every single thing you did was controlled by someone else – well, for me, it’s like that:  I never have a moment ‘off’.  Until last Sunday….” 

“Anyway, come on… We’ve got to get going.  Julie worries if I’m late….  It was just an impossible dream, I suppose.  I’ll have to live with just that one moment of perfect happiness, as that’s all I’m going to get. “

I felt sorry for him, but at the same time I wanted him.   No one had ever told me secrets like this before – well, you just don’t talk like this to your mates in the army!  And the way that Dan had been able to be so truthful with me just deepened my liking and desire for him.

Before he could move away, I wrapped my arms around him.  “I’d hate to worry Julie, too, Dan – you know that!  But I’ve got a cock here that hasn’t had a work out today, unlike the rest of my body, and it’s just aching…..”

We realised that we’d have to stop laughing so deliriously and making such joyous noises as we fumbled with our clothes, as we were still so near the footpath.

To be continued …

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