We spent one more full day trapped in the elevator. On the day after Christmas, despite our now painful hunger, we pretty much fucked the day away yet...again. Then we fell asleep, completely drained and exhausted. Suddenly, the elevator door opened and we awoke to paramedics throwing blankets on top of us. We were free. Free at last. After the ordeal (if you want to call it that) was over, we were taken to the hospital. There, they checked us over and released us. We exchanged phone numbers. But. I moaned and it came out more like a whimper. 'Your wife's name is Helen, isn't it? You should show her how to do this for you.' 'No. I'm on my own now. We got divorced a few years ago.' 'I'm sorry to hear that, but eating you own cooking probably explains the anaemia.' Her free hand took hold of my cock again and began stroking it, light on the downstroke and tight on the upstroke. 'I'm just going to have a wee look now.' The stroking stopped and with two fingers and a very delicate touch she. More

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