The nice barman called across to me, “You alright there, mate?”Taking a deep breath, I said, “What happened to the guy I was talking to just now... Did he leave?”“What guy?” the barman replied.“The guy that came and sat next to me,” I continued, “Look, there’s his drink!” True enough, there was a nearly finished bottle of Tuborg Lager on the bar close to my Smirnoff Ice, also nearly all gone.“I don’t remember any guy, sorry,” the barman apologised, and then, biting his lip and frowning, he said. Her fingers itched for that contact, and her horny mouth was watering for his cherry prickmeat. But some last shred of inhibition caused the woman to hesitate. It seemed so utterly degenerate to take her son's cock out, as if this were her own idea, as if she was doing this from lust rather than blackmail.Tommy took the matter into his own hands. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, then slowly drew the zipper of his fly down, right in front of his mother's face, only inches from her. More

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