He did not object to what I was doing at all. I continued to rub and squeeze and feel his cock. He was growing bigger.I said, “That feels bloody nic... to me!”“Me too,” he grinned.“How about unzipping and lowering your jeans so I can see it?”“Somebody might see.”“No, they won’t. We’re sitting high up. It will just look like we’re two guys talking.”He unzipped and raised himself up off the seat and lowered his jeans and underwear to his knees. He raised up his shirt so I had a clear view. His. He parked the desk on the stony bank of the nearby stream and took a seat in the plastic chair whose back had been kicked through – leather shoe tapping a metal leg, scratching his initials to the hinged platform with his raw and bloodied fingers. Truth is he wanted a front row view, and now that he’s spotted the first of the spurts of water that have forced cracks into concrete, he thought of how the cat of the ‘hag’ next door bled when he cut it. He meant to kill it, to slit her from face to. More

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