There's a familiar pressure of cock against underpants, the entrapment of the willing. A memory prods me, of when I was younger. Before women, before ...ex, but after the discovery of pleasure. I remember the motion and the feeling; the pure wanton release of youth, and the unbelievable frequency of it. I blush, remembering the stiff stained sheets; proof of the act, or sometimes just the dream.I lie on my back, calm and sure in the warmth, and slide my hands down my skin. There's a certain. Numerous projectors shed light at the bottom of the crevasse. The sky was only a distant, finger thick crack. The earth was laced by tracks that extended out of tunnels in the crevasse’s walls to dumping grounds for waste. Working them were thousands upon thousands of bushed prisoners, all sort of Beings, who had taken as close to a humanoid a form as they could transform to – that was only one of the Seventh Post’s two hundred and sixty sectors, smallest one at that.“Get in order, we don’t. More

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