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‘I’ve nothing here to look forward too, so, yes, I am still interested in your proposition.’ ‘Susan! What are you saying? You’d prefer to be dead?’ ‘Not really, but there has to be something more fulfilling than this miserable life I’m leading.’ She looked away shamefacedly. ‘She doesn’t have to be dead to accept this offer.’ The uniformed guy said. ‘In fact, if you’re worried, you can come as well. With your power you could be useful to us.’ ‘What power? I’m a bin man for heavens sake!’ ‘But. I get up, sportin a full blown piss hard, and head down the hallway to loose it. Damm---must have been a gallon. Back to the kitchen I pour up a cup of coffee, then add the sugar and milk. Sitting at the table, Jackson (?? guess he must have just come over) mutters “bitch” to which I flash a glare at him. The rest chuckle a bit, and Jackson continues “real men drink coffee black” I flash Jackson a grin, and grabbing my junk tell him “real men do what the fuck they want”. He just smiles back,. “Then you can just un-give your word! I don’t care! I will not marry him! Tell me, where are all the young men? Where are all the sons of the nobility? It’s been years since any eligible suitors have called. It’s the Baron Shieldsmith, isn’t it? He’s been warding them off and threatening them, hasn’t he? Ever since I refused him, there have been less and less of them. That’s when all the trouble started wasn’t it? The raids, the bandits? You only want me to marry Lord Tathlone so he would use. Usually a short lived reflection of my manhood, my morning glory was being somewhat persistent in its prowess this particular day, somewhat aided by that stare from next door and the parting glance, not to mention the wet lips. My clenched hand enclosed my throbbing shaft and quickly dealt with the problem. Stroking it back and forth, with eyes closed, replaying the moment of first eye contact with the new neighbour, I soon had a small fountain of semen decorating my belly. It was about an hour.
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