I couldn?t see Mr. Pinky, but I imagined that he wasjust like a small piece of cooked pasta resting in a tiny amount ofsticky, warm discharge, held ti...ht inside my crotch, by several layers oftight, silky fabric. After the discharge, he felt smaller and softerthan he?d ever felt before. Like a piece of cooked spaghetti one inchlong. At least, nothing will show which might embarrass me, I thought.Jacqueline was watching me carefully, one eyebrow slightly raised. Iblushed, wondering if she knew. Jason had a bemused expression. "I can't make it stop," he said. "I've been trying."Rebecca smiled and kissed him. "You don't have to make it stop." She studied his face, his dark eyes, his lips moist from her kiss. She put her hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat."I'd like to take a shower," she said, touching her feet to the floor, "and I'd like to take this with me." She slipped her hand around his cock and led him down the hall to the bathroom.The water, it seemed to Jason, washed away. More

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