"Then you the poet-boy from New York, huh? The spoiled apple," the bleaty voice laughed long at its stupid joke. "So, you must be pretty faggoty, that...right?"The man speaking sat several stools away. I was relieved, and certainly not worried, directly. His stool was like a rotten stump, drenched by a week of rain, and with a day of sunshine there he had swollen alive, some gigantic fungus. The man was such a mountain of fat I doubted he could get up and move even to pee. In the next few days he. He was already getting hard and there seemed to be plenty of it too. I nodded to Julie, indicating maybe now was the time to do his front. “Would you like to turn over?” I suggested. Andy rolled over without being asked twice. He had a super dick! I thought I had got a bit of a handful but he was well-endowed. He wasn’t circumcised, I’m pleased to say. I don’t like ones that have had the snip. Half the fun is watching the foreskin peel back and rubbing it up and down looks so sexy. Whatever. More

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