Roger nods, the buckling of his gag inhibiting the attempt to show more enthusiasm. The warmth of her hands is most welcomed. What the hormone laced concoction primed during an entire day of gastric feeding My Ling has frostily neglected. Roger’s eyes close in sensing Miss Margie’s welcomed touch. Despite the guileless nature of her greeting, the ephemeral transference of affection feels wonderful.
Miss Margie smiles in noting the reaction. Her hands withdraw to bring a groan.
“Are you going to let down for me, Roger? Come, show Miss Margie how much you want to offer yourself.”
Roger whimpers. He whines. He needs to feel something. Then comes the sound of the distinctive ‘ping’ as a rivulet of lactate oozes down the long expanse of his right n****e and splashes into the waiting metallic
