His arms encircled me as he began to undo my pants. Then he pulled off my shoes and then with a little help from me, my pants and underwear.I got down...on my hands and knees as his hands ran over the globes of my ass. “Bubble-butt Jerry, remember when we used to call you that?” I nodded, not being able to speak. “You know why I stopped? Because it started to give me a hard-on.” I felt his finger on the rosebud of my ass and it slipped inside easily with all the petroleum jelly on it.It was my. It might all have been for nothing, and then I had no idea what to do.I did check in with John Stein, obviously. Gerard was there, too. I swear they were giggling when I came into the back room of the fishing supply shop. Not chuckling: giggling.“And there he is! The Best of Britain, haha!” said John, getting up to offer me a meaty handshake. Gerard just grinned.“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said, somewhat stiffly. The more casual Americans get, the more British I become. I can’t help it.“Did ya. More

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