My Handler“Well what have we here? A new donor, nicely tethered, leashed and erect.”
I blush. Having traversed the dock our small parade, led by the imposing Captain Morena, followed by wife Edie and me towed by my scrotal sac, steps onto the sandy softness of the tropical isle. With the steady breezes the temperature is moderate but the direct rays of the sun are intense and I am grateful for the coating of sun tan lotion, all parts pink exposed to the ultra violet light.
There to greet us is a youthful pretty girl, perhaps not out of her teens. Her words are gushed in mocking enthusiasm bringing heightened embarrassment.
“Mr. Burgess,” Captain Morena surprisingly formal, “this is your handler, Beth. She’ll be tending to you during your stay on Indiening.”
As the girl extends her hand
