***
Penis training continues. Mixing the tadalafil into Douglas’s faux excrement, his system is physically prepared to perform for me. My boy just needs a psychological prompt, which I offer, waving about a syringe now filled with saline. That and some coaxing words and Douglas stiffens for me, eager to please, eager to be put on display.
“My goodness Douglas, I think it’s growing,” I coo in a sultry voice, amused in knowing it is not to be touched, ever.
Yes, the sizable useless organ remains neglected. Other than my fingers directing bladder relief and inserting the electrical probe, the p***s remains untouched, the nitric oxide injections no longer required, just as I predicted.
Saturday nights Roger visits religiously, probably a poor choice of adverb, for the depravity deepens, an
