Captain Bob

To anyone who flies quite a lot, this story of being in the clutches of an airline in a weather 'situation' will be frighteningly familiar. 

 Who picked up whom? Always wondered, now, doesn’t matter. I know it was in Chicago and that it was Thanksgiving morning. Early, like 6. It was going to be later but the posted departure said 6. Our group of passengers and crew, all maybe forty of us there for a plane made to hold 250, were slouched around the waiting area still tired or not tired but tired of waiting-a common condition among ‘frequent flyers’. The Captain came over, sat by me saying, “Platinum Member don’t see many of them with your credentials  this early.”

“Ramp Rat told you, right.” He smiled and nodded his head. “Okay, and the other part, be real nice to me, true?” Another smile, another nod. “Thanks, you’ve been nice so...if you want go sit with your crew or walk around….”

“Thought I’d see if I could find some coffee...wanta stroll along?”

“Sure….. you know how ‘delayed’ the inbound is, don’t you?”

He half smiled, stood up. “Yep.”

“Hasn’t left Cleveland has it?”

“Nope.”

That’s how we met. Don’t know whatever happened to the flight from Cleveland, somehow they found other ‘equipment’ so, by walking almost the distance to Cleveland, we boarded that one, took off and twelve hours later I was in bed with him, the Captain, the result of a weather problem that forced us down in Pittsburgh. Sharing the bed wasn’t planned but we were not the only flight sitting down in the Steel City so bunking with strangers was the order of the day; We drew a room with a ‘large’ double bed. (And I’d like to discuss the definition of the word ‘large’ with the mattress manufacturer who palmed that one on this chain of ‘budget’ motels.) I was lucky, my ‘Platinum’ standing with the airline meant I did get a room and, maybe, they threw in the captain to affirm my elevated status. Didn’t work.

One thing we had in common, we both flew so much that we each had spares in the event we ended up, unexpectedly, in Pittsburgh, or similar for more than a couple of hours. I’d learned that there was a real laundry near my place that washed, ironed and packed my shirts in sealed bags, one was in my carry on as well as some underwear, two pair, additional pair of socks, another tie. for variety, plus a really fine amenity kit given to me by Lufthansa as a First class male (it said ‘Herren’ on it which is why I know it was for men) passenger on a longish flight from Frankfurt to Beijing. Tooth paste, brush, comb, shaving crème (no blade, not in this day and age) body lotion etc. I had God knows how many of them from various flights around the world from assorted airlines-now and then I’d hand them to friends who were going to take a car trip with their children. Actually, to them I gave two plus a packet of pre moistened towels (Maybe from Qantas?) that I knew would see service.

“Well shit, there aren’t enough hangers for your suit and my uniform...”

I shrugged that off but did appreciate that he’d noticed. Wasn’t all he noticed.

“Happen to know the Chairman of the company? I’m betting you do.”

My turn to shrug, “Well, we’re not dating….” He laughed. “Why?”

“Cuz I’m gonna say something that could get my ass fired...I like sleeping with men and you’re just the sort of man I’d like to sleep with.”

“Do you fuck? Men, that is, the ones you’re sleeping with.”
“Yep.”

“Well, that’s convenient, you’re the kind of man I like to sleep plus fuck with...unless that  bothers you...”

“Wanta check out the shower? If we’re gonna be sweaty, might as well be clean. Also, I like to take showers with guys, how about one before whatever and one after whatever, saves wear and wrinkles on the clothes.”

“Good idea, clean now, maybe a 69, get semi dressed…. wonder if there’s a coffee shop attached and, if there is, how soon until most of their food runs out?”

He had his jacket off, was working on his tie, stepped out of his loafers, “I’m Bob”

“Cole”, we shook, both continued to peel.

The room offered...almost nothing that could be called what a guest might want. Hopefully they wouldn’t want the picture over the bed as it was nailed to the wall, the lamps on each of the two bedside tables were also permanently attached, but for hospitality, a small round table with two small chairs that might have been comfortable for as long as it took to play a hand of old maid. We didn’t fight over the one hanger, I let him have it; I didn’t lose points if I showed up wrinkled and he might. “Thank you, Sir, that gives you choice of top or bottom..”

I stood next to him; “I’m taller, that gives me the top, also I’m a Dom. One thing I know, anyone who has the responsibilities for lives, doesn’t want or need to keep control all the time. Nice to have someone not take it, just always have it. ”

“You’ve been around pilots before.”

“ I have, both military and civilian, never met one who wasn’t willing to do what I told them to do. Came away wondering where I’d be...tomorrow. Sometimes where I was involved their being roped down, gagged and their ass full of my cock. That’s where I sometimes was, tomorrow. How about some role playing, I’m the captain, you’re the first officer, I give orders. That’s not a question.”

“Yes, Sir.”

One thing I knew to do was lay out my suit on the shelf that was in the crypt they called a closet. I also knew to take some toilet paper to wipe it down before putting anything up there that might ever touch me.

“You have hung out with fly boys, that’s a trick no civvy knows.”’

“Clive, British Airways, Buenos Aires to London, layover in Dakar, sick bird. Royal Hotel N’Gor, they let us sleep in bungalows by the ocean, shared that with Clive and several Green Sea Lizards, kept down the insect and small critter population. Turned out we were both against snakes, how we ended up in the same bed, one asleep, one posted guard for anything that slithered or was a cold blooded, something, I might add, he was not. Then the sun came up...we went down...Should you ever hear a nasty rumor about how reserved the British are, I’ll give you a number in Reading.”

“Clive?”

It was my turn, “Well shit”. Our alleged bathroom did have a toilet, a sink, smaller than a soup tureen,  and the bathtub with shower. As is the case too often, the shower was set in the wall just about high enough to get your nuts wet over a tub that an average sized man could not sit in with out doing something like the foetal position only vertically. There were two towels, two wash cloths, two miniature bars of soap, two plastic cups and one bathmat; With both of us in the room at once, it was almost necessary to alternate breathing to move about. I’d forgot, thank you Cathay Pacific, I had a nice bar of soap and some other cleanliness stuff especially for men-I offered to share. In return, he had a real blade razor which, as Captain, he got on the plane without scrutiny. He also had a plan. Turning on the water, hot, didn’t bother with cold, he started filling the tub, wadded up some toilet paper, plugged the over flow which turned it into a sitz bath, however we sat on the rim. My soap, their washcloths, we took turns washing each other, a pleasant form of foreplay, using their thoughtfully provided plastic cups to rinse using the dip ‘n dump method; Who gave a fuck about their plastic floor? (I think I had shampoo as well.) Since we had no need for it-and both of us knew to be wary of the top of a bedspread in a motel, we used the underside as a towel, fun drying each other.

Time for sex.

As First Officer he was ordered onto the bed, face up, I covered him, both of us pleased to find that during washing and drying, we’d chubbed up some so now what was left was fine tuning and going for getting firm. A chore for the First officer, get the Captain really hard. We were both cut, about the same size, he had lop sided low hangers, mine were meatier. Something for everybody if you wanted it and, at some point, we probably would.

“I guess this is what passes for room service.”

I didn’t answer as I had his ball  sack in my mouth-they were nice and hard, fun to play with.

He went for the cock, slowly licking it, pushing the little bit of foreskin I had-the circumcision that still left a bit for purists in male penis appearance sake. Got into the corona, nice and clean, did some exploratory down my piss slit then, with a sigh of approval, let me sink in. I could tell he was one of those guys who deep throated but not during the opening, besides, did we know each other that well? Yet? Up top I was interested to find he’d been really fully cut but his stalk was a mass of wrinkles, fun to undo one at a time. Just me but I like to treat each new cock as a slurpee instead of the more popular pole that needs washing, just me I guess. I was gratified that he was almost immediately into it, his legs were moving to scissor me down while he’d duck out to kiss the head, suck on it, slide back down...felt good, I had not thought I was dealing with an amateur and I wasn’t. I’d slipped hands under his tail and was prepped to slide a finger or two up his ass, just as a sort of wake up call for what I was certain would be an activity later. Also, I wanted him to understand, fuck the role playing, he was a bottom, I was a top. Of course, he could try and flip me but I had about 20 pounds on him plus knew-and used-every airport, hotel, YMCA gym on the road not to mention my own place at home; That suit, laying on a shelf, was not filled out with padding, but a nice display of muscles as he was now seeing if he bothered to look.

I used my weight to push him down, compressing his chest just a bit, I like a bit of a moan and that’s one way to get it started. Topping, and I’ve got long legs, makes it a bit tricky to capture his head with my calves, my thighs stood in, put pressure just as I upped the suck value, had to live up to my Platinum Level.

To maintain my status, stuck the sausage in him until it hit the back of his throat then took one hand which gently compressed his wind pipe, I wasn’t going to kill him, just soften him up, make him aware that when I  said ‘Top’ and ‘Dom’ there was meaning to them. As I loosened up, took a large suck on him which distracted him while he gasped for air-didn’t take him long, knew he’d enjoyed it, if not, he’d be on the road to getting up and out but he played along. Good. He returned to licking the down pointing staff while one hand gave the old balls a good squeeze which he got back, only harder, meaning I initiate activity, sure you can play with my gonads but not until I have yours softened up. Moving from his cock to his sack, I took the whole thing right up to when it joined at the bottom of his dick. That’s where my teeth clamped down just enough to be painful but also make him wonder how much further this was going?

He found out.

“On the floor, end of the bed, on your knees, mouth open. Time for first officer’s leg so you’ll take the stick and fly the Captain to paradise. Got it?” I had my hand over his mouth as he slithered under me off the bed. Wonder if he’d say, “Arf?”

Putting my feet on his thighs to keep him in one place, I allowed him to go down and fly that poker. On command, he played with my nuts while I shoved my toes into his crotch, just under his bag, object? Use my big toe to press on his perineum to pressure his prostate...he shuddered as the first sense of intense desire from his interior chestnut to his cock. Nice and hard and...desperate for some action but Captains came first, ask any Captain. Always that way. Anxiousness made him speed up, a movement that earned him a bust on the bottom of his balls-he got the idea: Slow Down . Since this was just the early part of the action, all I wanted was to get both of us a bit drained, give those semen factories to get the idea they’d better load up while we ate, be ready for the main event later.

I caught him under his arms, pulled him back up, resumed the 69, then leading by example, got him off. Made him work for mine, then kept him there while I fucked his throat just for diversion.

“Time to get sponged off again...” He paid particular attention to my crotch, as was appropriate, the Captain had a hard trip, needed the extra attention. I made sure he knew he was appreciated.

“Food...I’m not sure I even want to eat here...lets see what a walk will turn up, swear I saw a Marriott or a Hilton...block or two...why the fuck aren’t we staying there?”

I’d put him on no talk  mode so he just nodded. Damn, he was a keeper, shame I couldn’t, well, at least until tomorrow assuming we could get out. No point in looking at the weather until later, we’d know better what the future would be then.

I’d guessed right, there was Marriott and...my Privilege card turned up a room with a queen sized bed-great, someone else could have our bit of Sodom while we moved to a more comfortable Gomorrah. Also, they had a restaurant, not a coffee shop. I let him talk during dinner, found out, no surprise, he was a bachelor, lived alone in sub sub sub suburban Los Angeles-maybe Lancaster- but his base was San Francisco. He said on days when he had to fly, he always went a day early...just to see what-or who- was new in town. I brought up the topic that we’d not bothered with; Things elastic...he said he preferred bald men...so good thing I didn’t have any rubbers. Wouldn’t have mattered, he’d have got it the way I felt like giving it to him. Why not? Simple deductive reasoning; A Senior Captain with any Major Carrier-okay, ones from countries you can pronounce the name and had a vague idea where they were and hadn’t been banned from flying outside their own air space-are scrupulous about health. Little known fact; There are not enough people to fly all the planes that airlines own. Ergo, it’s in their best interest to keep their cockpit people happy as well as healthy. Any jerk flying shows up with a communicable disease or equivalent may quickly find themselves slaving for private owners or career-less; When I play drop the soap, or whatever, with a man from the left seat I knew I was probably safer than balling my sister’s husband. (Fear usually makes them lousy fucks. I’m sister-less but many of my friends are not which means they have husbands; Draw your own conclusions)

He looked well fed so he got the chore of walking back, packing the small amount we left at our first billeting then hauling it to our new base camp. I hit the gift shop that also doubled as a mini-mart, everything but gas pumps, picked up some supplies that would be handy as well as some toiletries we’d both enjoy. He had the room number so I went on up to check on how many hangers we had; Enough for four men with their suits and uniforms for three days. I liked this place. Also called room service to send up some beer, snacks, whatever they had for two guys about to watch the game. Fuck, I didn’t know if there even was a game to watch but that wasn’t the game I had in mind. Whether the guy at room service picked that up, don’t know, gave him a fairly strong hint...if he took it? Fine. No? Still have chilled beer and snacks.

Nicely timed, room service came-and almost stayed, I’d forgot and stripped before opening the door. Cute kid, left his name, contact, time he got off in the event whoever was in this room felt like, well, whatever he might feel like. I gave him a good tip as well as a good groping; He seemed appreciative.

Being naked, I got prepared for Bob knowing he’d come in cold, probably wet ...there was a short hall that passed the door to the bathroom-this one with a real stand up shower-which was where I positioned myself. He and room service almost overlapped. Once in the door I was behind him, caught him, held him with my arms crossed over his chest. Gave him a second to figure it out, not struggle then pushed one hand down his pants, grabbed his nuts while my  other undid his belt, the clasp, unzipped him, told him to inhale hard. Pants fell to the floor. Practical person, he’d not bothered with underwear.

We stood in the hallway, him against me, my hands holding his nut sack tight…

“Ever been bulled?” I put one hand over his mouth. He made a non-committal motion with his head.

“You’re gonna be, course, first, that means you need to be steered. Know what that means?” He nodded in the affirmative. I put my thumb nail at the base of  his balls, index finger on the other side to give me a hard spot on which to push.

“Feel that? That’s the first step to getting a man steered, finding the cord, cut those and...well, you’re steered.” I pressed harder. The spermatic cord was easy to find if you knew how and I did. “ Course, some men like their steers not only sterile but nutted…..I’m partial to that way, also like a good dish of freshly harvested prairie oysters….” I pressed harder, it was beginning to be painful.

“Think you’ll make a good steer, right size, got a hole for my cock, good sized, tasty testes...yep, you’ll do, Think….feel your manhood about to be taken, just like standing on the gallows, your feet on the trap door, the noose around your neck...only question is...when? Good thing about  being steered, you get to live.”

I held him like that for longer than he expected, put one hand around his neck, found the arteries and pressed, wanted him to wonder? Hanging or steering? He was beginning to squirm, good, wanted him to, told me he was on the edge of not knowing what I was going to do….

It was easy, giving the cords one solid jerk, I pushed him down,  up on his arms and knees. Moved my hand from his neck to his mouth while I stuck him in the ass hard and deep. “Good, fly boy, glad to find you’re not a virgin...although, virgin nuts are the best tasting, someday I’ll tell you how I know.”

A couple of deep, hard strokes then pulled him up, turned him, kissed him, released him and strolled away. “Bad weather? Thanks for collecting our things. Any trouble checking out or did you bother?” He dragged himself to his feet and just stared at me while I eased into a chair  that I knew to be a recliner, pushed it back, leaving my cock looking like a lamp pole, hard and ready to be lit. I could see him trying to smile.

“Finish undressing then come over here and sit down, right seat, face me, I’m feeling like a good facial...or...while I was downstairs in the shop, I got some blades, maybe you’d really like to be steered….you wonder if I’d do it?”

He suddenly realized that he’d been damn near choked to death and threatened with being castrated...all in good fun, of course. I paused then in that stern level tone that says ‘authority’, “Strip, get over here, I’m getting chilled...also...open the curtains, lets give the passersby something to look at...now that I think about it, stand in the window, stick one thumb up your ass and grab hold of your stick with the other...I’d like to get a good look at your male cunt myself, didn’t get a better shot of it earlier.”

I’d guessed right, he had a streak of the exhibitionist in him, all it took was a firm hand and command to bring it out. He opened the curtains and stood there until told to move closer, closer, almost flat, lets show the crowd your nice cock as it lays on a cold pane of glass. He did. Had him stick three fingers up his ass, frottage the glass until he felt he came then stop leaving sloppy seconds on the pane….

“Ever fuck the new first officers, the ones just up from commuter service? I’ll bet they’re sweet, plus get a lot of cherries to pick. Think about those guys, some hot little wife, wonders how the flight went? Do you request the best ones, ones who clearly have done it all before being put on your rotations? Ever have them lean over while everyone’s on auto pilot and suck you off? Good looking meat like you’ve got...I’ll bet there are some that bid to fly with you. Company must save money on rooms when that happens, always bunk in with you.”

I could tell my recitation of his possible sins was hitting home, about what I’d expected. He was too hot-look how he approached me-to not clip the wings of some cute guys in the right seat.

“You’ll have to share your black book with me, I see a name on the flight crew, I got the code words, ‘Bob Sent Me’.” I laughed thinking how many new tails that would open...plus knowing the CEO and my platinum status….easily get some gold ass.

“You know I’d like to really suck you off  again but...all that fur, guess what that means is we’re off to the can where you can watch yourself shave...everything. Ever done that? Ever watched yourself? Think of  your hairy balls as masculine? I want to see your face as the fur is pulled away and...we’re talking egg bald. Oh, downstairs, great little shop they’ve got, even found some hair remover...after you’re soft, slather that on...hurt like shit...plus the hot sauce, they only had the small bottle, that can be dripped down your piss slit, I’ll let you do all of that to yourself. Hey, I could get my phone, knock off some pictures….leave you with some souvenirs….”

“Please, Sir, please...no...” He got on his knees, no pictures Sir, they’d get out...”

“How? Who would I show? The CEO? Maybe he’d like a piece of you himself.”

I could see tears. The humiliation of shaving himself…..the shame was I couldn’t find anything that could be used as rope or I’d have tied him, made him stand with his legs spread and watched while I took an hour, maybe more, to shear him.

“If I...if I, please...Sir I, anything else, just, Sir, don’t make me do that...please don’t take....”

“Well, shame to let the blades go to waste...remember how we talked about how you might do better as a steer? Easy to slide those baby makers out, just need one incision...course you’ll look flat but...how about that? I’d get my fresh snack...”

He was actively crying. Held on to my legs, wanted to beg but...for what? He was terrific, forgot we were role playing, we’d moved into reality, blurred the edge, I was ‘Sir’ and in his mind, always would be. Also he knew...he’d look for me. Somewhere in the shame and fear he was experiencing, he was so involved in degrading himself, something he couldn’t do for himself but only a Dom could. Wondered how much further I could take him?

“Well, I guess you’ve noticed that bald spot, back there, just below your crown..eliminate that by shaving your head. Think how it would feel to get blown while you shave your head...or maybe fucked, big cock up your ass...how about that?”

“Sir, Sir….” He threw himself on me.“I’m so fucking horny...”

“Bed, go, flat, now, bare...”

I didn’t so much enter him as used falling onto the bed so that I drilled him hard, fast, I was past his prostate on the first shot. Well, this was what he wanted, he got it, filled to his brim, now all that needed doing was the deep, grinding fuck, the one that doesn’t give a shit about the guy getting nailed, it’s now about me, he was horny, he got horned…..Just for shits and grins, decided I’d edge myself so, after the first spurt, back to work.

“Gotta keep me hard, gonna take you again, shit head, clap that ass, grab my pole, I get soft and you...” I reached around, grabbed his balls and gave them a good yank followed by a squeeze. “Next time, I don’t turn loose.”

I pulled my knees up beside him which got me positioned just where I wanted to keep a throbbing in and out. He was moaning, guess he was enjoying it.

“Bet we’re not going to get out tomorrow...you’re gonna just get lucky, whole day of two kinds of room service, me and the sort on a tray...tell me you want that, all day, you, fucking sucking, getting fucked….cum dripping down to your ankles...”

“Captain, Sir, yes, Sir, all day, stick it to me, please Sir, fuck this mare, Stallion.”

Well, okay, Stallion and mare was about as good as bull and steer, both doing the same thing...a thought ran through my mind.

“I gotta take a piss, I’d do it on you but we have to sleep in this bed...you like to be pissed on? Drink from the yellow fountain marked ‘Boys Only?”

I could see his body squirm at the idea; Oh, yeah, I put that on the menu and remembered to drink lots of water….

Pulled out so quickly some of the hair on his butt came with my buddy.

“I’ll be back….”

I’d noticed a phone and had a number. Didn’t take long to be answered.

“Remember the naked guy in 1206?”

“Oh yeah, what can I do and when do you want it done?”

“When your shift ends, change out….can you get to guest rooms without being called down?”

“Sure, service elevator. Push a trolley, pass key, easy.”

“Uh huh…” I paused….”You got a buddy here? I’m thinking ahead to tomorrow”.

Didn’t wait for him to answer as I was sure, if he didn’t have one, another stud was a phone call away. “One other question….got some lube? I Forgot that, also some rope? You double fuck?”

“Mister, to do that, I’d grow two dicks. An’ I can take and give.”That was useful information.

“Okay, come up, slide in, put that stuff in the john, strip, come on it, we may be asleep, shit, we’re both tired enough...grab some blankets, pillows, you may have to sleep in the recliner for a bit….Oh, got a name?”

“Jeb...”

“See ya.”

Back in bed I rolled Bob on his back. “I don’t always kiss on the first date  but you’re a good first officer, earned some reward. Now, up, short shower, sleep, cuz we’re gonna need it.”

He held his hand in the air. Jesus, was he getting well trained. “What? say it?”

“Sir, may I call Ops, see what they know about tomorrow? Chances of getting out...”

“Do you mean...out or ….away? I’m still on that flight.” That flustered him.

“No, I meant...”

I slapped him on the butt, “Hit the can, make your call.” Then slapped him, hard, again, on the butt. Hmm. Bet he liked to be spanked, all bad boys do;  Wish I had my golf glove.

He was allowed to get up and make his calls only because, regrettably, I had an interest in what they might say; Nothing against Pittsburgh but that wasn’t my    final destination and, if I didn’t show up, eventually, questions would be asked. To some I could easily say I spent the missing hours fucking an airline captain in a bed in Pittsburgh and I’d have got an ‘atta boy’. To others it was a simple matter of weather forcing us to land in Pittsburgh, it just took a long time to sort everything out and get away. Both statements are true, neither one nor the other is truer.

The thing about tiled bathrooms is they permit noise, the voice for example, to amplify. It was his turn for an “Aw, shit” moment which was accompanied by the sound of a lot of piss in a solid stream hitting the water in the toilet. Forgetting the latter, I could pretty much figure out what his two word commentary meant; We weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Some guys might have wondered, even without all the facts, whether there was a Steelers game they could catch while in town; That however wasn’t my consideration as I knew we could play  ball right where we were, scoring with a different sort of end zone. Given some additional time, maybe shift the role play-although elements of it remained in effect only awaiting either a quarterback sneak or, as I might style myself, a sneaky quarterback. Propped myself up waiting for the bearer of bad tidings although also bearing comfort to good men who are willing.

I guess he thought I didn’t hear it the first time. He padded across the carpet accompanied  by the next rendering of, “Aw Shit. Stuck, nothing moving and, fuck ‘em, they’re gonna get the trans cons up and running first then move backwards. IF we’re lucky, maybe Thursday, maybe.” He threw himself into bed clearly in a  bad humor. I’m not an unkind person and, to those who need it, consolation is always offered so, to divert him-probably an unfortunate turn of words as we, ourselves were on a diversion-I let him get into bed, if not settled, leaned over and commenced chewing on the nearest nipple to me. Never occurred to me to wonder if he was hard wired from his tit to his dick; Only a Pittsburgh Steeler sitting on his crotch could have held down his sudden stiffy; Doms know how to deal with that.

Throwing back the covers to reveal a fleshy tribute to the George Washington Monument, he was told to take both hands then beat himself off. Don’t worry about the mess, he could lick up the ooze wherever it fell and, if it fell on me, I’d pushed my part of the covers back, he could suck me off, part of his apology for  missing and messing.

Two things are at play here; Sex and Anger. Should you ever want to see the definition of a ‘hard fuck’ don’t bother with porn, watch a guy who is royally pissed off stick it to his buddy who will be confused by this sudden turn of attitude. This is even more interesting if the anger comes on in a public place meaning a place to screw isn’t quickly at hand. Frankly, I think this explains why the mens’ rooms, adjacent to wherever the seats for the losing side are at any sports event are so crowed, they don’t need to take a dump or spew a spurt, they want to fuck the shit out of someone, a form of anger management. Or they may actually need to use the can, all those beer sales but, I’ve been in those bathrooms on the losing side although for what I got to do, losing didn’t even figure into the equation.

It calmed him and, got to admit it, a good blow job makes sleeping easier. Seemed to do the same for him as well, even rolled over and miscued on a goodnight kiss. Guess the nerve endings in an earlobe, unless gnawed with teeth, aren’t one of the many erogenous zones. I ruffled his hair, thinking what fun it would be to give him a Mohawk, rolled over and dreamt of the offense fucking the defense on the goal line. No extra point, but twenty two calls of illegal use of hands. Bet that looked good on SloMo in the replay.

AT PLAY IN THE FIELDS OF THE MARRIOTT TO BE CONTINUED.