‘Four kilocredits.’ John bit his lower lip. ‘You would only need to pay methree.’ Something predatory flashed in the manager’s eyes. He paus...d a moment, thinking and stroking his tie. ‘Three kilocredits, eh?’ His smile curved to something sly. ‘I’m not sure I can do that. You see, I’d be breaking all sorts of laws by paying you that little. Minimum wage be damned. Plus, the butchering is quite complex. You’d need to get trained. I respect your offer but I must decline.’ John took a glance. I must taste it - I pull out my hand and lick the stuff off my finger. It tastes like oysters and young men. Now the wetness of my fingers prepares me to stick my finger in, to explore my dark and painful spaces - pushing down my taint, sticking a little to the sides, preparing to enter in. I rim myself with my finger, callous at my edges that seem to swell - resisting my own seduction of my hole, and now, oh god - the tip in, alll that resistance and a pang of pain only makes me harder - I am. More

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