Freedom is a wonderful thing, but it's of little use to a carcass.Half an hour or so later, weary, bedraggled, and smarting from a bruisedthumb, I arr...ve back at the crossing. It's as if I'm a character in one ofthose films set in a haunted house when no matter how hard the protagoniststry to escape, they keep returning to it.This time I come upon a thin, grey-haired man in a pair of dark blueoveralls pulling weeds from the grass verge outside the cottage. He looksup as I draw nearer, then. I shifted slightly to one side, still cock-in-mouth, so that I could bring my other hand around to the front, to clutch and tickle at his testicles, now soaked in a mixture of my spittle and his own sweat, while the finger of my left hand pushed ever deeper into his “inner sanctum”.“Oh fuck!” I heard him whisper, “Oh fuck! Don’t stop!” he urged, his two hands now clasped about my head, as I now sank lower over his shaft and finally reached “home base”, with my nose buried once again in the. More

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