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The Shell was well placed for relief, a candy bar and a bottled water. Increasingly southern attitudes and questions about the poles were answered with a standard line."We weren't sure if you folks had bridges so we brought a raft."For some folks the answer was as funny as Ed and Seph had intended, others were insulted. Ed always ended up explaining that they were poles for their tipi ... and that brought out questions about having a trailer when they had a tent. The standard answer was, "just making sure."The land had become more interesting south of Cinci, but after a while hills are as boring as the flat.Sweet tea in bottles? Farce!Cynthiana south, around Paris, straight through downtown Frankfort and south to Oneida Tennessee. From there to Harriman ... staying on 127 South they reached Rockwood, Spring City, Dayton, Sale Creek and a town with the improbable name of Soddy-Daisy. Soddy-Daisy created several ribald jokes about Daisy and who might be sodding her. They crossed into. “Oh, I gotta get me a taste of that sweet peach.” He said, with a bit of spittle in the corner of his mouth. Otis kicked off his work boots, unbuckled his overalls and removed his shirt. I was shocked at the bulge bursting through his tighty whities. He climbed between my wife’s legs and she arched up her hips to meet his mouth. She was enjoying this. After a few minutes of sucking on her pussy, Otis exclaimed, “Oh yeah, she’s gonna love this black cock!” “She’s so tight, you couldn’t pull a needle outta there with a tractor.” “You must have a tiny dick, son.” “Come on over here and see what’s gonna ruin this little bitch.” I got up, as if in a trance, and walked over to the bed. “Reach in there and pull ole Otis Jr. out.” I did as commanded and reached into his underwear. The monster I pulled out made me scared for the safety of my petite wife. It was by far the largest, gnarliest cock I had ever seen. I held this old man’s heavily veined, hard as steel cock in my hand for a long.
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