Theycircled around me and laughed at me. Talk about being in aSouthwest commercial and wanting to get away! As stupid as it was,I willed the gas to ...pump faster.At that point another car pulled into the gas station and stopped atthe pump next to me. The driver, a good looking man in histhirties, got out and was going to put gas in his car till he sawme. He stared for a minute then got a big grin on his face andsaid, "Hey baby, how much for a blowjob?"I couldn't take the humiliation anymore. . As his tears mixed with my spit, I rubbed my hand all over his face, mixing the two in a glossy lubricant. I ran my tongue over his phlegm-drenched face. The kid sputtered, and I could tell he was biting back a puke. Returning the thick Jeroboam to my mouth, I undid the kid’s corduroy shorts, letting them drop around his ankles. He wore boxer briefs underneath, white with little soccer balls on them. I massaged the briefs at the crotch, rubbing the boy’s flaccid knob around and around. He. It was nice to be out in the relatively warm sun for a change. I was feeling a bit stiff, but I noticed there was very little pain going on and I was grateful for that. I hoped that my recovery would be sooner rather than later. I didn't want to be dependent on Mom or Georgette any longer than necessary. They had their own lives to live.We arrived in the city just before three in the afternoon. Georgette made a detour and pulled up in front of a medical supply outlet."What's up?" I asked."I'm. During his trek, he came across a European bistro on the outskirts of the expansive hotel grounds. Paul strolled in and asked if the establishment accepted American currency, to which the attendant behind the counter responded in the affirmative. Paul scanned the menu of available beverages and decided upon a bubble tea, something he’d heard of but never tried before. He plunked his money down on the countertop, and the attendant set off to prepare his requested beverage. Paul found himself.