The Amish men thought otherwise.Soon, the only ones not smoking were myself and the two Elders Neufeld. I invited them to the bar. There was no coffee...brewed, which was a pity, but the keg of whiskey was in it's sling. I had not yet tested the batch, so I was unsure if the bung was even set, but luck was with me. I poured three drinks and passed them out. It may be locally made, but American-Irish knew something about distilling spirits.This was excellent. The batch was single malt and aged in. Fucking hell. Game on.I went into the stall, closed and bolted the door and faced him. He was a couple of inches shorter than me and slightly heavier built, with a thatch of black hair on his chest. "Looking good, my man," I breathed, taking hold of his meat and wanking him. His cock was a beauty, thick and pulsing in my hand. He began stroking my tool and rubbing my bollocks as our mouths met in a kiss, tongues dancing together, a strong smell of suntan lotion coming off him. Jesus, it felt. More

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