It takes a minute or two but then I can feel their presence at the entry into the living area, which is behind me and I can't see them.Adam announces ...hat I am the bottom for the evening and that the guests should have a look.Then I am surrounded by a group of guys, their hands are all over me, my chest, my thighs and all over my speedo. Particularly all over my speedo. It feels like there isn't an inch of the lycra that doesn't have someones hand touching it.My cock was semi hard to start and. Unlike the 3.4 auto mishaps actuaries tell their insurance companies the average American will endure, it's a completely different thing with airline crashes.One is usually all you may encounter because you don't survive them.After the funeral, there was the usual cadre of friends that dropped by to try to cheer me up, but after a while, I guess they felt that their 'duty' was over and the visits dried up.I spent more and more time at the country club while debating whether or not I was even. He takes another step and reaches for the lock on the cage, the keys jingling in his hand. She freezes, holding her breath. He pulls the door wide and reaches in for the chain around her neck, grinning as she shuffles toward him on her knees without so much as his slap on the crate, head bowed even after clearing the cage door. He swings around behind her and flips the chain once, lightly; it tightens around her neck and then loosens again. "Sit up." He steps around front again as she. I run my hand down his back, and rub his soft, firm bottom. He squeezes mine. I move my hand to his belt, unbuckle belt and pants and try to pull them down. I sit up and he lays on his back. I pull his pants down and off as he lifts his bottom to let me. I see the outline of his dick pressing against his boxer-briefs, blue-green this time. I rub it gently as I kiss him. His body pressed against mine, warm skin, smooth skin, making me want him more and more, he moans softly. He pulls off his.