Date: Thu, 4 May 2006 22:24:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Show, Part Eighteen

THE SLAVE SHOW

By Pete Brown.   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  Eighteen

It all seemed to be working out rather well, until we
had a letter from a firm of solicitors in Australia,
informing us that they were acting as executors for
the (late) Captain Mainwaring, and instructing us to
sell Joe and remit the proceeds to them.  It was all
suitably official, and they even enclosed a copy of
the Captain's death certificate, telling us that the
poor old bloke had died of cancer of the prostate.

Joe didn't seem unduly concerned about the Captain's
death, and was perhaps a little coarse when he said
"Oh, the prostate.  Perhaps that's why he had so many
problems getting it up me!".  But when I told him that
he was therefore going to have to be sold, he almost
broke down.

"Please, sir, please don't sell me.  I like it here.
I work hard, you know that, and I help train the new
slaves... "

"Sorry, Joe, but that's what the solicitors say.
They're in effect your owners, you know."

"But sir... Steve.... I thought we were.... You
know... A bit special...."

"Joe, I'm sorry.  You are a good fuck, and a great
help around the place.  But there's just no way we can
afford you:  all those prizes you've won make you a
really valuable property, and we're a bit over
extended when it comes to capital spending as we're
trying to buy the field net to the property to
expand....  We won't be able to do that if we buy
you."

"Steve, please.... I thought I was more than 'a good
fuck', I thought...."

"Joe, you're a slave - you're not here to think.
Look, I know it's tough, but that's the reality of
slave life.  You're valuable, and too expensive for
us."

I turned and walked away as  I said this, for in truth
I liked Joe a lot and he'd kind of been with us all my
time as a show slave and trainer, and I'd really miss
him.  But business is business, after all, and there
wasn't much I could do about it.

I've mentioned to you, I think, that Joe and Julie
always got on well, and later that day I saw Joe
talking to her and then Julie putting her arm around
the big man as she was evidently comforting him.  That
night over supper Julie looked at Dan and me and said
firmly, in that way of hers that brooks no argument
"You are not to sell Joe - or, rather, you are to buy
him.  It's not fair to make him go to a new owner
now."

"Julie, we can't afford him.  He's a really valuable
property.  And, anyway, what's this 'fair' stuff?
He's a slave, a piece of property, and his owner wants
to sell him and we can't afford to buy him."

"He's right, Jules", Dan cut in.  "There just isn't
the cash available, and I don't want to have to extend
our bank overdraft."

"This is silly!  You two men are going on about money,
and it's Joe you're talking about, for heaven's sake.
Joe, who's been with us from the start, who does a
hell of a lot of work around the place.  He's a kind,
gentle, man.  The kids adore him, too...."

"I'm sorry, Jules", Dan went on, "But he's too
expensive.  And remember, we'll be losing the training
fees the Captain was paying us, too...."

"Daniel, I insist!  And you can stop supporting him,
Steve.  You get on the phone tomorrow morning and make
those solicitors an offer for Joe - they probably
don't know what he's worth anyway, so you don't need
to offer much...."

"Jules, we can't..."

"Daniel!  Just do it."  With that, Julie got up from
the table, leaving Dan and me sitting there.

Dan looked at me, and shrugged.  "Steve, mate.... She
who has to be obeyed has spoken.....  Sorry, and all
that, but you know what Julie's like when she's made
up her mind about something."

"Well if we can get him for a good price, it would be
a good investment, I suppose.  There must be another
few years of potential prizes to be won with him."

Dan saw me the next morning when I was covered in mud
having run the assault course, and followed me in so
that he could enjoy seeing me shower.    "Fucking
Australians!", he muttered as I stood there soaping my
body.  "They seem to know what's what.  I offered them
as much as we wanted to pay for Joe, and they just
laughed.  They've got access to the UK edition of Used
Slave Guide and reckoned he's worth four times that,
even if they only make a minimal allowance for his
prize winning potential.   I tried to negotiate, of
course, but they just cut me off eventually and said
we had to put him into an auction, as that's the only
fair way of determining his true worth."

"Throw me a towel", I called, and when Dan handed it
to me, I grabbed his arm and pressed his hand down
onto my cock.  "Come on, Dan.... Let's have a quick
one.... I'll lock the office door...."

"Steve, you know we said we wouldn't do it around
here.... If Julie were to see us...."

I felt so sad, as I let him go.  "You're right.  And I
reckon we're both in enough trouble with her as it is,
once you tell her Joe's got to be auctioned and we're
not going to be able to bid on him,  But I want you,
Dan, I'm desperate for you...."

"We're in London, at ExCel at the weekend, Steve....
I'll tell Julie we have to stay down and not drive
home as we usually do - I'll think of some reason.
And there's lots of hotels on site.... we don't need
to pay central London prices as it's cheaper out there
in Docklands."

As he said this, Dan leaned forward and kissed me, and
quick as a flash my arm snaked out and I pulled him
close to me, so we could kiss properly.  When we broke
off a few seconds later Dan almost pushed himself away
from my naked body.

"Hang in there, Steve, not long until Saturday
night.... Look... For fuck's sake, you've made my
clothes all wet..... If anyone sees....."

We both laughed, though, and went about our business -
well, as I was aroused now, not just because it was
Dan, but because it's somehow so erotic to have a
fully clothed man pressing against you when you're
naked.  So I had to go down to the other end of the
stables where the slaves were showering, and I picked
out a relatively new guy, a neat, trim little
Mediterranean type, and fucked his throat, before I
could concentrate again on more mundane matters.

Julie wasn't pleased at dinner that night, and the
atmosphere was distinctly icy.  Dan went through the
numbers over and over again, trying to prove that we
really couldn't afford to buy a slave like Joe, but
she was in favour of all types of wild schemes like
dramatically increasing our overdraft.  And it didn't
seem to matter that Dan said that he was then in
danger of being Indentured if the business was to turn
down.

The carriers came for Joe the next afternoon to take
him off to the dealers in Norwich - the fucking
Australians had brought in some agent or other to
maximise their potential gains, and he had advised
them to put Joe into a big regional auction, and to
pay for advertisements in the specialised press for
the slave "fancy".  Strangely, Julie didn't seem to be
all that upset as he marched up the ramp into the back
of the transporter, and it was me who had to turn away
as I saw Joe locked into one of the tiny cages inside,
before the thing drove off.  I'd done my best for him,
though, allowing him to wear a T and his jeans as he
was taken away, rather than making him go naked as
most of the salves in the transporter were - of course
he'd probably be stripped immediately he arrived at
the auction house, but it was good that he could
retain his dignity a little longer.

I didn't want to go to the auction - it was a waste of
time, I reckoned, as there was no way we were going to
be able to bid on Joe, but Julie insisted that Dan and
I drove up there three days later, and seemed to be in
a fever of worry that we might be late if there were
road works or something.  Dan and I kept trying to
tell here that there was no way we were going to be
able to buy Joe, and Dan even confided in me that he
was worried that Julie was "obsessed" by the whole
thing:  "I don't like to think what's going to happen
when we come back without him, Steve".

"As we've got a sort of day off, away from the place,
why don't we check into a hotel and enjoy ourselves?
It's so long since I've had you all to myself for a
day.... Let's fuck Norwich, or, rather, fuck in
Norwich...."

"No, Steve.  I can't risk it.  Julie will be cross
enough and upset enough when we go back without Joe,
and I don't think I can lie to her about what the
auction was like..."

"You lie to her about a lot of stuff, Dan!  Important
stuff. You and me, for example."

"That's different, Steve.  You have to lie about some
things. She would be dreadfully hurt if she found out
about us.    I don't want to have to lie to her any
more than absolutely necessary."

"Dan, I want to spend time with you...."

"And we will, Steve.  We'll be together all day. And
you'll enjoy the auction, I'm sure - you enjoyed it
when you went off and bought the cook, didn't you?"

"Yes, actually - it's sort of exciting, bidding on a
man, knowing that if you win you own him totally..."

"Well we can always walk around and inspect the stock
on offer - get a feel of the market."  Dan grinned as
he said this.  "And I mean 'feel' in both senses - I
don't get to run my hands over skin as often as you
do, Steve."

Those of you who haven't been to the Norwich slave
market probably need a few words of explanation of how
it's organised.  It's not in the city centre of course
as there was no space to insert all the viewing rooms,
slave pens, veterinary facilities, and the loading and
unloading bays for the slave transporters into the
ancient fabric of the city.  It's a pretty major
market, being slap bang in the middle of East Anglia,
and it has a huge turnover, especially for the
agricultural labourers needed in the vegetable fields
and market gardens, and that of course attracts
hundreds of buyers on a major sale day.  There are
acres of parking around the purpose-built central
complex, but it's easily accessible from the ring
road, and for the elderly and infirm potential buyers
they even lay on rickshaws from the parking to the
main viewing hall.  The pony slaves pulling the
rickshaws all have little labels attached to their
collars, and if you take a fancy to one of them as he
pulls you along, you can see how much he costs as the
dealers don't mind selling them as there are plenty
more who can be taken from the auction stock and used
that way.

Inside you have to register if you're intending to
bid, handing over your credit card and in turn getting
a sheet of stiff card with your buyer's number on it -
they only accept bids when these numbers are held up
in the sale ring, to avoid confusion.  I thought it
was pretty pointless to join the queues waiting to
register, but Dan insisted we did as he said we could
at least show Julie our number, so she'd know we
tried.

After you've registered you can take coffee in the
large central atrium under the glass dome, before
setting off to view the stock.  It's all set out to
make it easy for you, as the viewing galleries radiate
out from this central space, and you can immediately
ignore most of it as they categorise the slaves, and
all those of one type are in one gallery to facilitate
making a comparison.  So the women are down one
gallery, then they have niggas, Asiatics, whiteys, and
so on down others.  Dan had bought a catalogue and as
we sat there with a coffee he was looking around
ruling out the places we didn't need to go.

"Here, Steve - gallery four is what we want, I reckon:
 'mature whiteys'.  I reckon that sums up Joe, don't
you?"

"This is utterly pointless, Dan.  It's only going to
upset Joe...."

"Steve, I've told you, I don't want to lie to Julie.
So we have to go and take a look at him. Now, if you
don't want to come, go and look over the niggas, or
whatever else takes your fancy.  But I've got to go
and see Joe, so I can tell Julie I tried."

Well I didn't want to lose sight of Dan, did I?  We
got little enough time together as it was, so rather
reluctantly I tailed off after him as he strode
towards gallery four when we'd finished our coffee.
Once inside though, it started to be quite exciting:
the 'mature whiteys' covered blokes from twenty five
upwards, so there was a lot of interesting flesh on
offer, mostly in it s prime.  And the air was full of
that special scent of men under stress - almost all of
the slaves on offer were sweating and worried, and you
could feel the male pheromones assaulting your senses.
 The auctioneers made sure they were all spotlessly
clean at the beginning of the day of course, but as
the slaves stood there being handled and inspected by
the throngs surging past, they just couldn't help
starting to show their tension and excitement.

As is usual in these places the slaves were naked
except for tiny loincloths to provide a "modesty"
covering - not that it mattered for the slaves: it was
done for those members of the public who found total
nudity offensive (whole families did come to these
things after all, if they were buying a family slave,
and so I suppose mothers and fathers might want to
avoid embarrassing questions from very small children
about penises).  Their wrists were cuffed to their
collars behind their heads so that their torsos were
fully accessible, and they had a little movement as
they were tethered in their display positions by short
chains to only one ankle - each slave stood in front
of a low box, and you could order them to step up on
to it if you wanted their genitals or bum at a more
convenient height, or to put one foot on it if you
wanted to move the loincloth aside to see how their
balls hung.

It really is exciting to see men offered for sale like
this, and to know that if you have the money you can
bid on them and take them home and they're totally and
utterly yours to do with as you will.   I did indeed
start to handle several of the more choice specimens
myself - not because we were planning to buy, but
because I was interested in seeing how they'd been
toned, and prepared for sale:   we were after all in
the business of showing slaves, albeit in a more
specialised way, and I  thought a little market
research would be useful.

Dan kept dragging me off, though, telling me we had to
find Joe, and when we were almost at the end of the
gallery, there he was.

Dan and I both gasped when we saw him!  It wasn't so
much that his normal light "show" collar made of chain
that we always used had been replaced by one of the
heavy cast-iron "standard" collars, and this was
making his head lean slightly with the unremitting
weight.  No, it was the fact that right across his
back, covering his shoulders from side to side, was
the word "SLAVE" spelled out in huge black tattooed
letters.  Right at the base of his spine, in smaller
letters, "Joe" was tattooed, and it  appeared to be
almost slipping into his bum crack.  And his bum was
striped with ugly red weals, indicating that he'd
received a very recent caning. Then, as he turned
around, we saw the word "JOE" running down his body!
The J began between his pecs, and the bottom of the E
curled neatly around his navel.   As we got closer we
then saw the word "Slave" in smaller letters across
his flat bell, just above the line of his trimmed
pubes.

Dan and I rushed over, and a big grin - or what passed
for one, I think -  broke out over Joe's face as he
saw us.  He couldn't speak, as there was a ball gag in
his mouth, secured in place by a strap around his
head, something which no other slave had.  And as we
looked at him in astonishment we saw both biceps now
had tattoos running all around them in the form of
stylised slave bangles, as did his legs, just above
his ankles.    Joe made muttering noises and indicated
that we should lift his loin cloth, and there was a
further shock in store for us as we did:  Joe's
familiar cock was almost disfigured by a tattoo on his
cock head in the form of a big "S", neatly done so
that his piss slit was in one of the arcs.

There was an attendant from the auctioneers close by,
and I called him over.  "When was all this tattooing
done?", I demanded.

He consulted his palmtop, and shrugged.  "I'm sorry,
sir, I don't know.  This is how the slave arrived from
his former owners.  They do look agreeably crisp and
fresh, though, so I would imagine they're relatively
recent - I expect his previous owner had them done as
some sort of fetish, then tired of him....  Some
owners are like that - they think they'll get a
greater sexual charge from seeing a decorated slave,
but it's easy to get bored with it:  perhaps it's
having the decoration done that's important.  A pity
though, as it's considerably detracted form his value.
 With a body like that he might almost have qualified
as a show slave, but with all that on him.... well, I
think his price will be far below that which we might
have expected."

"And why's he gagged?"

"Oh, that's unfortunate, too.  A lady telephoned the
office, in some distress.  She claimed that she was in
here inspecting the slaves with her children as she
was looking for a personal trainer for her two boys,
when this slave let out a stream of expletives!  She
insisted that we gag him, as although her boys were
relatively mature, she didn't want that sort of
language used in front of toddlers.  We asked her to
come back and point the slave out to me, but she said
she was so affronted that nothing would get her back
in here, but of course it was easy to identify the
slave because he was called Joe.  It makes him even
less desirable, actually, as most people would
recognise the reason for a gag like that, and so he'll
only be attractive for working in a coffle in the
fields or something similar - and most agricultural
coffles use younger slaves...."

"...and the cane marks?"

"Here when he came in, sir.  I expect he's wilful, and
needs discipline.  Not a very good buy, all in all,
for discerning gentlemen like yourselves.... Now, if I
might direct you to this slave over here...."


Well, we had to wait around until after lunch before
Dan's lot came up.  Dan tried phoning Julie all
morning, but her mobile was switched to the answering
service.  We couldn't help laughing, though.  "Fuck
me, Steve", Dan kept saying.  "It's just as well we
came.  If we went home and told Julie we couldn't buy
Joe as the price was too high...."

"She wouldn't necessarily know...."

"Steve, sometimes you are really stupid, mate!  It's a
wonder I still like being with you after all this
time, as you can be like the proverbial two short
planks sometimes!   Who do you think got all that
tattooing done?  I reckon Julie used her contacts and
got that bloke from Chelmsford to come over and do
this quickly and secretly.  And I reckon it was her on
the phone to this  place, too, this morning - there
was no 'lady inspecting the slaves':  it was a call
from home.  I wonder who gave him those stripes on his
bum, though....  I wonder if Julie had one of the
others do it?  They must have hurt.  But he's probably
hurting all over, actually - especially his cock!
Tattooing isn't painless, you know, especially stuff
as big as that."

He kept on smiling, as he went on "Anyway, I reckon
now that we can easily afford to buy Joe.  His market
value seems to have been dramatically lowered, and
there's not even a chance anyone would even consider
him for showing...."

"Including us, Dan.  He may be cheap, but that's
because he's not worth much now.  If we can't show
him...."

"Steve, you're joking, right?  I thought you liked
Joe....  He's your main fuck buddy, isn't he?"

"Well, yes... But the expense...."

"Well then, that's OK.  I reckon you need a slave like
that to help you with the training, to keep all of
them up to the mark on the course when we're busy.
And, anyway, who's going to look after the show slaves
in the caravan?  We need someone like Joe to be in
there with the key, or else you and me can never get
away..."

Joe was smiling so broadly as he said this, and my
cock leaped inside my jeans at the thought of this
wonderful man actually making plans to be with me.

We sat through the auctions then - they really do go
very  fast, with most of the stock knocked down within
a minute - that shows you just how little most people
value slaves.  When Joe came up there was a murmur of
disapproval in the hall as the auctioneer made Joe
turn around in front of the audience - even in the
softly-glowing pink lights designed to make the naked
flesh look at its best, the cane marks on Joe's bum
were clearly visible.    So we did get him for an
astonishingly low price, and as we got up and left,
Dan shook my hand and slapped me on the back.
"Fucking marvellous, partner!  And we've pulled a fast
one on those fucking Aussies, too - if they' accepted
my initial offer they'd have made five times as much.
After they've paid the auctioneer's percentage and the
fee to that fancy agent of theirs, I doubt if they've
made any money at all from the sale.

Almost miraculously, it seemed, Dan's mobile went off
then and it was Julie, and  I could hear her almost
shouting with happiness as she congratulated Dan.  It
seems she'd been following the auction on the
internet, and had seen the price we'd paid.  As Dan
finally came off the call, he smiled at me again  "I
told you we'd have to come, Steve.  Can you imagine
what it would be like at home if Julie had seen that
price but it wasn't us who'd bought Joe?"

"You'd be deep in the shit, Dan."

"And you, Steve!  I reckon Julie would blame you for
leading me astray.  And then there'd be no nice cosy
suppers.... "

We smiled at each other, and I felt so good to be
there with the bloke I loved.  I cupped my hand around
his bum as we walked along, causing an old matron to
give us a scandalised look as it was clear we were
both free men and one of us wasn't a slave.  "Come on,
Dan... Before we collect Joe.... Let's go somewhere...
Just you and me...."

"Steve, no.  We've got to do all the paperwork, and
Julie will be expecting us back.  And I know you -
once we get together it won't just be a quick five
minute fumble.... Two hours at least, I reckon..."

"Dan, please....."

He started to say something, but we were going past a
gents, so I grabbed his arm and dragged him in.  We
were alone, as most other customers were still in the
auction hall, and as the door closed behind us I threw
my arms around him and began to kiss him passionately.
 When we broke for air, he spluttered "NO, Steve...
Not here.... It's so sordid....."

I broke away from him.  "Is that what you think, Dan?
It's sordid to have sex with me?"

"For fuck's sake!  Are you a complete idiot?  Of
course it's not.  But I just can't do it here, Steve,
not in a public lavatory!  I want you, Steve, probably
even more than you want me. But  I want you properly,
in bed, unhurried.... I want to hold you, kiss you,
stroke you, feel your cock deep inside me....   I love
you, Steve, and I want us to make love, not just have
a quick shag."

I stood there, and I could feel my heart pounding.
"Dan.... That's the first time you've ever said
that...."

"What? That I don't want a quick shag?"

"No... That you love me."

Dan looked deep into my eyes, and my heart raced.  Had
I misheard?  Had it just been a casual remark?.  "This
is getting to be a habit, Steve.  For the third time
today, you're an idiot!  You must know I love you,
Steve...."

"But you never say it."

"I didn't think I needed to."

We kissed again then, more passionately than I think
we've ever done before.  And when we broke again, Dan
tenderly brushed the tear away that had trickled down
my cheeks.

"You really are an idiot, Steve...."

"It's only sweat..."

"No one has ever cried for me before, Steve."

"I'm a bloke, Dan.  Men don't cry."

"They do if they love other people, Steve."

We hugged again, and now I couldn't help myself.  My
body was racked with sobs as I clutched Dan to me.
And Dan was the same, too.

It turned out that although Joe had seen us before the
auction, he hadn't been sure that it was us who had
bought him.  When he'd been pushed up onto the auction
stage he couldn't actually see the audience of
prospective purchasers because of the strong lights
that were shining on him.  And we didn't speak, of
course - as the auctioneer ran through his patter we
just held up our numbered card, and at the end he'd
just said "Sold. Number eight six six."  When we'd
paid for him and got his "log book" updated and the
right papers sent off to the national slave registry
to record our ownership, therefore, and made our way
to the collection area with our receipt and release
authority, Joe was really on tenterhooks.  He stood
there in the collection cage wearing just the tiny
loin cloth, and was gripping the bars, scanning the
throngs of people coming and going and totally
ignoring the other slaves in there with him -
considering that he'd always said that he was
"straight" and really into fucking women (and he'd
been married, remember), that was really odd:  the
auction centre was strictly non-discriminatory and
caged all the slaves together after they'd been sold,
irrespective of whether they were whiteys, niggas or
Asiatics, or men or women.  I'd have expected Joe to
have been paying attention to some of the younger
blokes in there with him, or the women - he seemed to
be totally ignoring them, even though the cage was
pretty crowded they could hardly avoid contact with
each other.  I suppose it was a measure of how worried
he was, as I know that when I still thought that I
liked women, having one press her tits into my naked
back would have had me hard in a moment, and now the
same thing would surely happen if I'd been pressed so
close to one or two of the younger blokes!  But Joe
was just standing there gripping the bars, with no
sign of movement under his tiny loincloth.

He saw us coming before we saw him, as it was his
shout of "Joe, Dan... Sirs...." That alerted us to
him.  We showed the guard our receipt and authority to
remove the slave from the premises, and indicated to
him that it was Joe we'd bought.  The man called Joe
forward to the cage door, but then carefully checked
the numbers on the documents against the tag that was
hanging down from Joe's collar, muttering to us that
"You can't be too careful, as some of those slaves are
really crafty and manage to switch their tags whilst
they're waiting."

Joe came out of the cage and went to throw his arms
around me, but the guard slashed at him with his
control cane, making Joe leap backwards.  "This one
looks really vicious, if you ask me, sir!", he
shouted.  "An ugly brute, isn't he, with all that ink
all over him?  And I'm not the first one to have to
use the cane on him, I can see.  Are you all right to
take charge of him, sir, or do you want him muzzled
again, or cuffed - quite a lot of new owners have the
slave cuffed to the collar again until they've got him
home and have exerted their authority?"

"No, thank you.  My partner and I are experienced
slave handlers", I replied, and the guard just
shrugged, as if he didn't believe me.  Then he reached
forward and whipped Joe's loincloth off, giving a
little whistle of surprise as he saw Joe's inked cock.

"Hey!", I snapped.  "What did you do that for?"

"The loincloths are the property of the company, sir.
If you haven't brought your own uniform for the slave
with you, you can purchase temporary paper tabards at
the kiosk in the main entrance area."

"...or I could take him away in the raw."

"Ordinarily, yes, sir.  There's no general prohibition
on slave nudity here.  But in this case, with those
tattoos, especially that very unusual decoration on
his cock head, I think it might be advisable to have
him covered as some of our other customers might
otherwise complain."

I'd have been inclined to tell the guard to fuck off,
and just take Joe away, but Dan nodded, and told me
he'd be back shortly.  The guard had other purchaser
to attend to then, and after asking me if I was
certain that I was all right to be left with Joe, he
turned to deal with them.

"Joe.... Who....?"

"Mistress Julie, sir.  She got a colleague of hers to
come over and ink me when you and master Dan were
out."

"And the stripes on your bum?"

"That was fucking humiliating!  The other blokes were
all out on the course, and the only one available to
do it was the cook.  I had to bend over the table in
his kitchen, with mistress Julie watching, as he laid
into me.  I mean to say, he's just a little wimp, and
to have him punish a proper masculine bloke like
me....."

"But he evidently has a strong arm, Joe!  I doubt if
I'd have marked you much more."

At that moment Dan came back and handed Joe one of the
cheap disposable paper tabards, that with a lot of
good humour Joe pulled over his head.  The only
problem was that they were evidently designed for your
average run of the mill type, and Joe was a lot more
beefy and a lot taller than that.  Consequently there
was an awful lot of his body displayed at the
partially open sides, and his cock just jutted down
below the hem of the thing, and as we walked over to
where we'd parked the car, anyone who wanted to could
see the "S" on his cock head staring at them.

End Of Part Eighteen.