Now that you have a taste for cock, you’re going to want more. I’ve met guys like you. You’re a fag now.”Jake looked down at his pants. “Wha...t the hell am I going to do about this cum in my pants?”“Tell your wife you pissed on yourself.” Dylan suggested. “Or tell her you sucked a fat dong and it turned you on so much that you blew your gay load in your pants.”With that advice, Dylan left the stall and the bathroom. Jake took a few moments and then headed back to the table with his wife.. If he happens to enjoy it, there’s no harm in that.*Something old and primal drives it. Deep, unknowable. Its kind survives, yes, but they can reproduce as well, under the right conditions. It holds in its tentacles the perfect, right condition. If only it can fill her up. Open her, probe her insides, leave behind the seed needed to make more of itself. The hole on top seems wrong, it tests that and finds sharpness there. Hostile, no. Under, between soft thighs, there’s such warmth, such slick. We've expressed serious feelings for one another beyond friendship, and we both feel great about it. I think we each have legitimate needs the other can fill for a time (No idea how long our time together may be. But of course, who does, right?).We've just started to talk through the ridiculously complex logistics that go along with something like this. The fact that I'm married with children will do nothing but make spending time with Bridget a tricky thing at best. This whole thing is a big. " Okay," I nodded."One more thing," she said, "From now on I don't want you masturbatingany more. I'm taking charge of that area for a while." I beg your pardon?" I said, not really believing what I had just heard."No more touching in the naughty places for little miss Janet," she saidmockingly, "How hard can that be to understand?"I could only stare silently at her."Moreover, I want you to keep a diary," she said, "Keep track of howmuch you work on the novel. Every day I want you to describe.