Date: Tue, 28 Aug 2007 16:41:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Harry Rod <harryrod575@yahoo.com>
Subject: Tom - Chapter 3

My mind raced with all the what-ifs.  And mixed in with that was the "what
are those guys thinking of me," me allowing myself to be so humiliated and
degraded in front of them.  Fuck, I thought not for the first time, and
probably not the last, I had a year of the unknown ahead of me, and I
wondered if I would make it.

The day's events kept swirling around in a kaleidoscope of images and
emotions.  The images of those men jerking off over me in the park; I kept
seeing their cocks, the sizes, colors, the hands pumping them, the various
rhythms, and it made me wonder.  Was I like that?  Did I want to see a man
jerk off, or naked and hard?

I don't know how long I sat lost in thought, but Sir spoke and broke the
spell. "You have done well today, boy.  You did so well at the park that I
decided to give you a surprise and get your haircut today.  And again you
did well."

He paused, and I thought he was waiting for a response, so I said, "Thank
you, Sir."

"When I park the van at the house, I will park it in the driveway and you
will exit the van and walk to the front door."  Panic coursed through my
body.  I was going to walk naked in public once again.  "Do you understand,
boy?"

"Yes, Sir," I stammered out.  I understood his directions, but could I
follow them?

I began to tremble and I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from
chattering, and suddenly I felt I had to pee.  "Sir," I said, again trying
to control my voice.

"Yes, boy?"

"I need to urinate, Sir."

"Boy, normally it is not permissible for you to speak, if you haven't been
spoken to, but today is your first day and you have a legitimate need.  We
will discuss the proper way for you to communicate this in the future.  In
the meantime," he pulled over to the side of the road, "step out here and
relieve yourself."

I looked to my right at the side of the road.  It was a field with no trees
or bushes or anything.  My heart was pounding in my ear.  I opened the door
and stepped out.  I realized if I stayed close to the van, I was less
likely to be seen.  With my back to the van I concentrated on taking a
leak, trying not to pay attention to the cars that occasionally zoomed by.

I closed my eyes and tried to soften my dick a bit and get a flow going.
After several seconds, Sir said, "Now, boy!"

"Yes, Sir," I said, and squeezed, pushed, and managed to get a flow going.
At first it was just a dribble, but soon turned into a hard stream.  I
finished, shook my dick, climbed back into the van, closed the door, and
sat back down.

"Thank you, Sir," I said, meaning it.  I felt a bit more comfortable.  It
had also served to soften up my cock.  With it limp, my mind clicked back
to reality in a more purposeful way.

I was now this man's slave for a year.  And he had been observing me in my
apartment.  He had it wired; the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and
kitchen.  He seemed to know a lot about me.  And he knew my weaknesses and
my desperation for a job.

And how could he possibly know what buttons to push to get me so sexually
on edge.  I mean, I would never have dreamed that such humiliation and
displays would get me so turned on.  And it seemed that he thought that I
was interested in man to man sex.

He had all my porn records and knew what I liked.  I tried to scan back
through the sites I had been to and the vids and pics that I had stopped at
and viewed.  There had been some bondage sites, where men were being
dominated by other people, men and women.  But there had to be an equal
amount of sites of women and sex with women, wasn't there?

I was trying to recall all the sites I had been to in the last several
months, when the van came to a stop in the driveway of the house.  I felt a
trickle of sweat from my armpit.

Sir put the van in park, turned off the engine and opened his door.  He
closed his door and stood looking at men through the back door.  With my
heart thudding, I opened the door, and slid it all the way open.  I took a
deep breath and swallowed the fear I felt.  I climbed out and covered my
crotch with my left hand while I slid the door closed with my right.

I started to walk to the front of the house when I got a smack on my ass.
I jumped and let out a yelp.  "Do not cover yourself, boy."

"Yes, Sir!" I said, and moved my hand.  I walked briskly to the front door.
The door was locked, so I had to wait for Sir to come with the key.  My
pulse was pounding in my ears; my hands fidgeted at my sides.

Sir moved up, unlocked the front door, and entered.  I followed and he
closed the door.  The door to his side of the house was down the hall.
Just before we got to his door, the door across from his opened and a young
man came out.  I had seen him off and on as I came and went from the house.

He nodded to Sir and then his eyes fixed on me.  He started at my feet and
scanned up.  When his eyes met mine, I lowered my head, wondering what he
was thinking.  Here was a neighbor of his, standing in the hallway, naked
and shaved.  I felt the heat of the blush, and my embarrassment grew the
longer the time dragged on.

"New boy?' he said to Sir.

"Yes, what do you think of him, Paul?"

"Nice specimen."  Paul commented, as if I was a dog or a rock collected for
its appearance.  But there was no distain or rancor in his voice; it was
simply conversational.  Then I wondered if his apartment was under
surveillance as mine had been.

Sir unlocked his apartment and I followed him in.  He closed the door
behind me.  "You do not need to lower your eyes to others, only to me,
unless directed otherwise.  You should stand tall and be proud that you are
my boy; that of all the guys around I chose you to be my boy.  You should
feel honored that you were selected and that you accepted my offer."

"Yes, Sir," I said, trying to process that.  I had wanted to make him proud
at the park.  And seeing the young man disobey at the barber shop had made
me want to cooperate even more.  I didn't want to displease him.

I followed him into a library of sorts.  His apartment occupied the entire
bottom half of the house.  There were two other smaller apartments on the
first floor and 4 on the second and one on the third.  Mine had been a
small one bedroom on the second floor.

"You will wait here.  The appropriate position is hands clasped behind your
back, feet shoulder width apart and your eyes looking at the floor."  As
usual there was no threat or tone to his voice that conveyed anything other
than normal conversation.

"Yes, Sir," I said, moving into the position he indicated.

"Keep you back straight and your shoulders back; remember you are proud of
your new position."

I straightened up as indicated and said, "Yes, Sir."

He left the room then.  I went back to pondering the house and how I came
to be here.  It was an old home built back when they were built solid to
last.  I had come across it on a bulletin board on campus.  I had called,
come over to see the apartment, filled in the forms, and waited.  I didn't
have long to wait.  I received a phone call from the property management
company the next day.  They said my application had been accepted.  I met
with them to get the keys, give them a check, and then I moved in the few
items I had.

The apartment was furnished with everything^×dishes, sheets, towels,
utensils, TV, microwave, everything a person needed to start living a new
life.  I had unpacked my clothes, set up my computer and speakers, and
began looking for a job.

In between job hunting on line and going to offices to fill in
applications, I watched TV, surfed the net, went for walks, and swam a bit
at the community pool down the street.  I kept in touch with a couple of
friends that I had made in college.  But hearing about their successes in
finding jobs only discouraged me, so I didn't correspond much to them.

As I thought back on those days in the apartment, I tried to recall all the
tenants I had seen in the apartment.  I had run into a couple of them in
the laundry room.  And I realized that everyone I had met had been men.
Was that a requirement for the house?  Did Sir have every apartment bugged
and did he observe the lives of all the tenants?

I tried picturing the tenants.  There was Paul that we had met in the hall.
And a couple of guys I had seen in the laundry room, and one guy I had seen
when sitting on the porch one day.  It struck me then that they were all of
the same age -- early twenties.  All seemed to be alone in their apartment,
meaning I never saw couples entering the house.  In fact, I don't remember
seeing any women around the house except for Ms. Harrington whom I had met
today.  Where did she live?

I was brought out of my thoughts by, "Your food is ready, if you will
follow me."  I looked up and blushed.  It was Ms. Harrington again.  She
didn't seem to register the change in my appearance since this morning.
She did scan my body, and then turned and headed out of the room.

I nervously followed her.  She walked past a living room with a large
screen plasma TV.  I was trying to relate where I had met Sir and where his
office was.  It must be back closer to the front of the house.

She stopped in the kitchen.  "You will sit here," as she indicated a low
stool.  It looked like it was child's height.  I sat very self-consciously
as she stood waiting.  The low stool made my knees go wide, so there was
nothing to hide my nakedness.

She brought a plate of food over and set it on a low table next to me.  I
looked over and saw that the plate contained steamed vegetables, some
chicken cut into strips, some brown rice, and a slice of toasted whole
grain bread with what seemed to be butter on it.  She put down a large
plastic glass of water.  I looked up at her, but she didn't change her
expression as she said, "Finish it all."

She turned and went back to working in the kitchen.  I had no fork or
napkin or anything, but everything was stuff that could be picked up and
eaten.  I began eating as I thought that at least it was a healthy meal and
not a gruel of some sort.  I laughed to myself.  This wasn't some Dickens'
novel and I wasn't in a work house.

It only stood to reason that Sir would want me healthy if I was to continue
in his employ for a year.

I looked up as Ms. H. served a dish and left the kitchen with it.  She must
be taking Sir his dinner.  She came back in a moment and her gaze met my
eyes as she came back into the kitchen.  I cringed and lowered my head.

I went back to eating my dinner and began to fight back emotions.  All the
events of the day were catching up with me and I felt my eyes begin to
water, and a lump arose in my throat.  I didn't want to lose it here with
her around, but I was feeling really down and depressed about what I had
gotten myself into.

I wiped my eyes and took a long drink of water.  When I finished that, I
went back to my dinner and finished without looking up at her again.

She came over and cleared my plate and glass.  "Come with me," she said.

I stood awkwardly from the low stool and followed her.  She led me through
a pantry to an area inside the back door.  "Wait here."

I assumed the position that Sir had instructed, and waited.  I wondered how
many men she had seen.  And then I wondered what she had seen.  What had
the "boys" been made to do in front of her?

I don't know how long I stood there in thought, but Sir's voice brought me
back to the here and now.

"Follow me, boy," he said, and went out the back door.

Trepidation rose in me again as I stepped out the back door into the
backyard.

"Relieve yourself, boy," he instructed, and it took me a moment to
comprehend what he meant.

"You want me to urinate, out here, Sir?" I said, trying not to let the
question sound in my voice.

"Men urinate, boys pee," he said, and then continued, "after each meal you
will be given a chance to relieve yourself and only at those times.  I
suggest you get yourself regulated to them.  If you feel you must ask
permission, you will hold your right hand at your side, with your index
finger extended if you have to pee, and your index and middle finger if you
have to take a dump.  Do you understand, boy."

"Yes, Sir," I said, once more trying to wrap my mind around this new
situation.

"Okay, then relieve yourself.  You will also be given another chance just
before bed time."

I walked into the backyard to a tree and, with my back to the house,
managed to piss a little.  I shook my dick, and then realized I was not
sticking it back into my pants.  Old habits were going to die hard.

I turned and, not looking at the house, walked back to Sir.  "Nothing else
boy?  You do not need to shit?"  He looked at me and I lowered my eyes.
"There is a hole near the tree and you will find some toilet paper in a box
nearby."

The notion of taking a dump, a shit as Sir said, in the backyard in full
view of the house, was enough to insure that I would be constipated for a
long time.  My apartment faced the front of the house, so I never had a
view of the backyard and wondered if the previous boy had the same
procedures.

I shook my head and then said, "No, Sir."

He turned and said, "Follow me, boy."  I followed him back into the
kitchen, passed Ms. H., and on into his library.  He sat down in a leather
chair near a table with a phone.  "You need to be punished, boy."

My heart leapt, I thought I had been following his instructions to the
letter.  He was looking at me, waiting.  I said, "Yes, Sir," with a bit of
a questioning tone to my voice.

"You hesitated twice on getting out of the van and you covered yourself
when you were walking to the house."  I really felt that I had let him
down, like a little kid who had failed to do what his mother asked.

"Yes, Sir," I said with a lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't be despondent, boy.  You should consider punishment as part of your
education.  It will be part of your life as long as you are here, boy.  And
I never punish out of anger, it is always fair and just."  For the first
time I heard a bit of chuckle in his voice, "Well, what is fair and just in
my opinion."

He paused for a moment and I continued to stand in front of him in the pose
he had instructed.  "How many times should I paddle your ass, boy, for your
hesitation?"

He wanted me to meet out my own punishment?  What if I said three and it
wasn't enough?  What if I said 20 and I couldn't bear it?

"Ten, Sir."  I tried moderation.

"A good number, not too high and not too low."

He reached over to the phone, pressed a button and then spoke, "Paul, I
find I must punish the boy and I know that you always enjoy watching these
things.  So if you would, come over.  Let yourself in with your key.  I am
in the library."

Fuck!  Someone was going to witness my paddling?  And he had a key to Sir's
house? what did that mean?  Once again, sweat trickled down my side.

I heard footsteps and then, "Your usual chair, Paul."  I heard the movement
behind me and tried not to get the mental image of him looking at my naked
shaved ass.  I clinched my cheeks tightly, both in anticipation of the
paddling, and then fear that he might see something.

"Lie across my lap, boy."  Sir said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I looked, then moved, and awkwardly tried to position myself over his lap.
My dick slid along his trousers until it was hanging between his legs.  I
braced myself with my hands on the floor.

I wanted to look over and see Paul's expression, but I didn't want to see
it.  I felt heat rise in my face as I lay there in a position that I don't
remember ever having to assume before.  I vaguely remembered my mom holding
my arm and spanking me on the butt with her hand.  But I think that was the
only time she ever struck me.  Time outs in the corner were what I
remembered most.

Smack! and I was jolted out of my thoughts.  Sir had used his hand on my
ass and it stung!  He rubbed my ass as he said, "Count them out, boy."

"One," I said meekly.

Smack! "The correct response, is `One, Sir.'  Do you understand, boy?"

"Yes, Sir!" I tried to have more strength to my voice.

Smack!  "Two, Sir."  I said through clinched teeth.

"No, boy, we started over,"

"Yes, Sir, one, Sir."  I said, feeling his hand rubbing over my now warmer
ass.  He seemed to be caressing it tenderly.

Smack!  "Two, Sir!" He had used more force.

"Keep the emotion out of your voice, boy."

"Yes, Sir." I said, as I struggled to speak without the fear and hurt that
I felt.

Again he was caressing my ass.  Then without any warning, Smack! I jumped a
bit, fighting to keep my position and to say, "Three, Sir," without any
emotion.

Again the hand gliding over my heated ass.  This time he let his fingers
trace up and down my crack.  The amount of time between spanks varied and
was never the same.  I could never anticipate when the next would occur.
At first I tried to keep my cheeks clinched together to make the pain less,
but I realized it made no difference.  About 5 or 6, he spoke again,
"Getting to a nice pink, don't you think, Paul?"

I had forgotten about my silent observer, "Yes, nice and rosy," he said,
and there was a huskiness about his voice.  I felt my face flush again, the
heat competing with the heat on my ass.  I was assailed by humiliation once
again.  He was witness to another debasing episode of the day.

With this thought now thrust to the forefront of my attention, the spanking
took on a new aspect.  I realized how much I was once more on
display^×naked, shaved, and being spanked in front of this stranger.  I
almost forgot to respond, but the quiet brought me back and I quickly
spoke.

Sir spent more time after that one, caressing my ass and playing in my
crack.  His finger actually pressed on my hole once or twice, causing me to
clinch up tight again.

"Relax, boy." Sir instructed.  He rubs his hand over my ass as I
unclenched.  He ran a finger along my crack again and pressed on my hole.

"Yes, Sir," I said, breathing heavily.  I didn't understand what was
happening to me.  It was crazy, but this was getting me boned up!  Was it
the pain?  Was it the humiliation?  Was it the familiarity he was showing
with my ass?

He continued on, at times stretching out the swats and spending more time
on my ass.  At one point he reached between my legs and took my balls in
his hand.  This made me feel even more vulnerable.  He gently applied
pressure as if to say, "I could be doing worse to you."  I gasped as he
reached a pressure that made a ripple of pain run up to the pit of my
stomach.  He gave a quick squeeze of just a bit more pressure, then
released them and followed up with a sharp smack again the lower part of my
ass, closer to my balls.

By the time he reached ten, I felt I had been there for an hour.  When he
was done, he told me to stand.  I stood and my now rigid dick was there for
Sir and Paul to see.  Again, damn it, I felt my face suffuse with blood.  I
lowered my head and saw the pearl of precum at the head of my throbbing
cock.  My shame at being turned on by this humiliation threatened to
overwhelm me.  I stood there in the room with my hands behind my back.  I
could feel the heat coming off of my ass and it only make my dick swell
more.

Paul stood up then, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his pants were
tented out.  He stepped closer to me, took my cock in his hand and
squeezed.  I moaned and he smiled.

"Looks like you have really got a good one here," Paul said.

"Thank you, Paul," Sir said, running his hand over my ass and up to the
small of my back so that his hand was between mine and my back.

Paul turned and left then.  I wondered if he was going to jerk off back in
his apartment.  Then I wondered if Sir would be monitoring him as he had
done me.

"Yes, boy, it looks like that definitely had an effect on you."  I turned
and look at him.  He had a bit of smile, but when our eyes met, I lowered
mine and he said, "Now don't go doing stupid things like that young man in
the barbershop just so you can get a spanking.  I am sure you will do
enough to get your share of spankings."  He saw the look on my face.  "I
mean it is the nature of boys to fuck up.  It just happens.  I am not
saying you are purposely going to do things wrong or that I am going to
punish you unjustly.  I am just saying that you will always be learning and
that means that things will happen."

He stood in front of me and lifted my chin until he was looking in my eyes.
He looked from one to the other and then straight in to them.  He didn't
say a word.  He moved his hand to my shoulder and ran it down my arm to my
hand.  "Follow me," he said.

I followed him to the room with the large TV.  He told me to sit in the
chair facing the TV.  "I have some video I want you to watch.  I will let
you watch alone.  I will come and get you when it is over."  He walked over
and pushed some buttons.

"And boy, you are not to touch your dick or balls.  Do you understand?"

I looked up for a second and then back down; I wasn't sure.  I mean it
seemed obvious what he meant.  "Yes, Sir," I said.

"If you don't think you can control yourself, I can restrain you," he
sounded so serious.

"No, Sir, it won't be necessary," I said confidently.

"I'll be checking on you, boy."  He started the DVD and left the room.

The screen filled with a picture of a very full busted woman in a skimpy
bathing suit.  Then the picture changed to a jock in a well-filled out
small Speedo.  The images began to flicker through a series of nude photos
of men and women.  I occasionally spotted a picture of myself in the series
and it was a jolt every time I saw myself naked on the screen.  There were
shots of me in my apartment, in this apartment, on the driveway, at the
barbershop, places I had been today, as well as pictures from the last week
or so.

There were pictures of every part of a man; feet, hands, hips, butts,
dicks, holes, armpits, noses, beards, balls, every part of man.  When the
shots of shaved parts of a man appeared, I tried to figure out if it was
me.

There were shots of men in parking lots, men playing basketball naked on an
outdoor court, men walking to mail boxes naked, men swimming naked in the
ocean, men naked and running, naked men playing soccer, naked me in a group
of clothed people, as if being inspected.

The pictures became videos of men and women masturbating.  The women were
not fascinating to me at all.  I began to wait for it to change to a man.
I sat up and leaned forward.  My dick was hard and poking me in the
stomach.  I reached to adjust the position and stopped just before touching
it.

I sat back and it was a bit more comfortable.  It was also leaking.  I
wanted to touch myself, to pleasure myself, to close my eyes and welcome
the rush.  But I was not allowed.  Scenes changed to men and men together.

First they were clothed and hanging out with each other, then they were in
shorts and t-shirts, then just shorts, then in jocks.  I was enthralled and
entranced by the images.  I felt a yearning growing in me.  I felt an ache
growing in the pit of my stomach.  I was wanting that companionship, that
camaraderie.  I felt a pang and my eyes welled.  These men were smiling and
touching and projecting an image of brotherhood.

Naked, the men continued to touch and hug, and cocks swelled and grew.  I
realized I was on edge, tense, and sweat had coated my body.  It seemed the
temperature in the room had risen 20 degrees.  It clicked that there hadn't
been any pictures or vids of women for a long time.

The touching changed to kissing and caressing.  The alternating images and
vids kept my eyes jumping and scanning the images.  I wanted to see every
detail of every shot.  Once again there were shots of me being shaved.  I
felt my temperature increase, and I thought I had to be blushing again.

There were shots of men standing at urinals, pissing over the side of boat,
pissing in a line into the bushes, pissing on the lawn of what looked like
a frat house.  Men in showers at gyms, at home, scrubbing each other, and
laughing and playing.

>From kissing, it became more intimate, more sexual in nature; men touching
cocks and balls, mouths on balls, cocks and holes.  There was licking of
armpits, nipples and navels.  The looks of pleasure on the faces of men
increased my tension.  I wanted to take my cock in hand like these men were
doing.

I caught myself moaning and a man took another man's cock into his mouth
and sucked on it.  The yearning was growing in me.  I saw kissing, licking
and swallowing of dicks to their roots.  Balls sucked, licked and kissed.
Holes smelled, kissed, licked and probed by tongues.  I had never seen this
before.  But the guys were not turned off by this; on the contrary, both
seemed to be enjoying the experience.

Then men were using rubber dildos on themselves and others.  The looks of
passion on their faces showed that this was pleasurable.  I couldn't image
this.  How could that be sexy?

Then it became men fucking other men; pounding, pumping, thrusting.  Face
to face, doggie style, sitting on a guy's dick, every position imaginable
was shown.  The soundtrack seemed to intensify and the moaning and panting
increased in volume and tempo.

I found my leg was shaking and I absently touched my cock, moaned and then
snatched it away.  The screen filled with dicks erupting everywhere.
Stills and vids were showing men coming over the face of another man,
drinking cum, shooting it across stomachs, butts and chests.

I was moaning again and wanting to join the rush that I knew they were
experiencing.  It kept on and on, building more and more.  The sounds
intensified and came faster, images changing faster and faster.  There was
a background drumbeat that had been there for a while, matching the tempo
and intensity.

It was like how my hand sped up as I approached my own precipice.  I saw
glimpses of me in the images.  The look of ecstasy was on every face.  I
felt my own heart racing, but I wasn't getting the rush that each of these
were.  The images and tempo built more and more. I hadn't thought it could
get any more intense, but it did.

The eruptions of cum flying, the moans, the frantic breathing became
overpowering; I was immersed in them.  I closed my eyes and my whole body
trembled and shook and then I felt it; I wanted it sooo badly.

The screen went blank and I sat in the room which was now dark^×panting,
sweating, and trembling.  My dick had leaked profusely and had gathered in
a puddle on the leather chair between my cheeks.

I sat there panting for a minute more before Sir came back into the room.
"Follow me," he instructed without any preamble.  He mentioned nothing
about the DVD.

I followed him and he led me out to the backyard and said, "Relieve
yourself boy."

I thought for a minute that he meant for me to jerk off.  But then I shook
my head and tried to pee.  I stood by the tree, breathing in the cool fresh
pine air and shivered a bit at the change in temperature.  My cock wouldn't
go down and I only managed a feeble spurt or two of piss.  I still could
not think of squatting out there.

I came back to the door and he instructed me to follow him once again.  The
clock in the kitchen showed that four hours had passed since I had been out
here last!  The DVD was four hours long!??!?

We went back through the house and to his bedroom.  He told me to sit down
next to his bed on my blanket.  I was still shivering as I sat cross-legged
next to the bed.

I watched as he went over to his closet and began to undress.  As he did,
the images of men undressing flashed through my mind.  I watched intently
as he removed each piece of clothing, eagerly wanting to see more and more
of him.  As I sat there, I realized that some of the shots of men had to be
of him.

He was so fit.  The hair on his chest, arms, pits, legs, and all seemed to
captivate me.  Now that I had none, seeing it made me appreciate it more.
At last he was down to his boxer briefs, which were filled out nicely in
front.

My eyes were riveted to his briefs as he put his thumbs in the waistband.
I found I was holding my breath.  He pushed them down slowly and, inch by
inch exposed, more of his crotch.

His thick pubic bush appeared and I felt myself swell.  I had to breathe
again, and held it once more, and he pushed down a bit more and I saw the
base of his dick.  He paused there; he had to know what he was doing to me.

He pushed his shorts the rest of the way down and stepped out of them.  He
stood there and I drank in his maleness.  His dick and balls were perfect,
and his dick lay nicely over his well-formed balls.

My eyes followed him across the room.  He stopped next to me, "Lay down
boy," he said.

I lay down on the floor and he spread another blanket over me.  Then he
climbed into bed, pulled the covers over himself, turned off the light, and
said, "Goodnight, boy."

"Goodnight, Sir," I said.  I lay there quivering under the blanket.  Every
fiber of my body was screaming for release.  Every time I closed my eyes,
images from the DVD filled my head.  I wondered how much of that I could
do, how much I wanted to do, and how much he wanted me to do.

Sometime in the night, I must have fallen asleep, but my dreams were filled
with images of men and sex with men and buckets of cum drenching me.  I
twitched often in my sleep, and licked my lips.  I tossed and turned.  I
got sweaty and threw off all the covers, and then I got cold and bundle up
under them.  I slept fitfully.  Was this only the end of day one?

Comments, suggestions and pictures are always welcome --
harryrod575@yahoo.com

Have fun

harry