A Talk with Miss BethExiting cabin 24, prancing in thought over the ignominious encounter with the stern Miss DuPrave and the voluptuous Miss Millie, I spy my handler Miss Beth approaching on the cabin lined path.
“A good meeting, Mr. Burgess? You may speak.”
“Ah... well...” not finding the words to describe being physically examined by such naivety, my male anatomy becoming an object of exhibition. “It seems I’m acceptable.”
“No, your sperm is acceptable... there’s a difference. It’s not like you’re dating the women,” Miss Beth chuckles. “There’s not much daylight left to have you sunned in the pasture. But let’s take a walk. You seem fidgety. All those hormones... and I’ll be milking you again tomorrow.”
A hand lowers, fingers going to my stiffness, the patch and anal hook augmenting
