He scratched his head and said, “That’s really odd.”Tom went through the line getting his tray and silverware. With each step, the trashcan foll...wed right behind him. The trashcan was beginning to freak him out. It wasn’t until he had his lunch plate in his hand that he saw what was being served for lunch. Hanging his head, he said, “The menu said pizza.”“Hey, Tom. What’s with the trashcan?” Jerry asked pointing to the trashcan following Tom.“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tom answered.Jerry. Turning her back to him, Helena glanced over her shoulder. It took Tom a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to take her coat. He held the collar and she slipped out of the sleeves. The coat was more for looks than anything else. Fall in Los Angeles rarely necessitated any kind of wrap. Tom folded Helena’s coat over the back of the chair across from his and placed his hat on the seat. He watched her walk away. Though only a glimpse of her calves weas visible beneath the hem of her. She seemed shy about that. Butch told me that his dog, Spike, was smelling Ginger to see if she was in heat. As it was, she was in heat. Spike tired to mount her, but she wanted nothing to do with that. Eventually I took her home.I went back to Butch's house later. He was telling that Spike was so worked up about Ginger, that he need to calm Spike down. I asked how he did that. He said he did it in the only way Spike would accept, he had to get Spike off. How I asked, Butch said he. . sexual... so... hot and filled with desire, that often he would jerk me off right out of the blue, just for his own amusement. He would pull me into his lap, or bend me over a table or chair, or just push me against a wall, then slide his hand down my pants or up under my skirt and jerk me off. It never took more than a couple of minutes for me to come like crazy. I was a helpless captive of my newly awakened desires, but a willing one. I moved into Daddy's room shortly after that. It seemed.