I thought I’d try to find that old sawmill and look around this evening. It’s almost seven. Better be going. The bacon and eggs were great.’ ‘...ay, you aren’t going to write all them things I just told you, are you?’ Tony questioned with a second thought about going on the record. ‘If that’s the way it happened, then that’s the way I’ll write it,’ I answered as I closed the door behind me and the little brass bell tolled. The rain had stopped, the evening sky was clearing. I threw back the hood. “How old are you now, Puss?” Clacked asked. “I figure you for seventeen.” “Fuck you,” I said. (I’d be seventeen in another week, but didn’t figure that was any of his business.) Clack unzipped his fly, which took some effort on his part as his pants were tight to begin with and had noticeably gotten tighter. He grunted as he wrestled his cock out and I could feel my mouth drop open when I saw what he had, well lit up by the overhead light. Jesus, I’d never seen a fatter dick. I’d thought my. More

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