YOU OUT THERE, BOY?"It was the short-wave receiver. Harry, who had been sleepily scanning routinely through the channels, nearly dropped his teeth. So...ebody was calling me -- by name! Harry didn't have anybody there with him, to send looking for me. He finally just abandoned the radio and came looking for me himself. I was on the sixth floor, manning the second of our front-side 50-calibers."Carter! Somebody is calling you on the radio!" Calling me?" I said."You!... By name! 'Hey, Carter, ' he. He said yes he would be happy to do the job but wanted to talk to the boss first .we always had a deep respect for the boss not only was he a very large biker but a really nice yet very forward guy who often looked in on the wife getting work done and would say things like "thats it you do everything the artist says and well look after you "the wife would tell me that there was something about him that she couldn't put into words but she said it felt like she was his property {like a bikers. The first thing I noticed was that the dream was not a cartoon this time. He had apparently moved on to real-life drama instead.He still stuttered in real life; a year of talking normally in dreams — twenty years of it — wasn't going to change that; it was a biological problem, and dream therapy couldn't help that. What it had done was give him the confidence he needed to look beyond it, and beyond the people who — out of their own ignorance, fear, or, in some cases, outright cruelty — made fun. He had his body up against the side of the car. I stroked his cock from the base to his head. I wrapped my red, lipstick lips around his cock and gave him a blow job. I rubbed and massaged his smooth balls while I fed his cock into my mouth. “Jesus. You suck cock so good. Fucking hell.” I relaxed my mouth and took his cock all the way down my throat. He was loving the way it felt. He held my hair and then started to face fuck my mouth. I was making all kinds of sucking, popping noises while.