I’d leave sticky, gooey footprints everywhere. We can’t have that, now can we?” She cooed this last question. It was obvious she’d already ...ecided the answer, and I paused just a second for her to give her own reply.“We’re definitely going to have to clean this up now. Actually, you’re going to have to clean this up.” I looked around; maybe I could use my t-shirt, or go into the kitchen for a dishtowel. Before I could get up, a sticky foot was forced into my face. Strands of my own cum. My physiotherapy sessions were scheduled as late as possible in the afternoon, 3pm. Bud arranged for volunteers to drive me to the hospital instead of my calling a cab. I protested, thinking that this wasn't very productive and besides, the insurance would pay for the cab, but he waved me off and one or another of the staff would get an early afternoon off driving the twenty minutes to the hospital. I was amazed at how tight our group was.Our group secretary, Wendy Simmons, dropped me off at. More

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