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A Possible ExplainationStanding in the stream nearly waist deep my penis floats, bobs, amid the flounce of wave and light, flacid and wayward until---uncontrollable---a thought stirs, a memory or a taste of salt, and it's at this point my penis turns to cock, flushes with warmth and color and aims, arcs, in its single-pointed search for touch and tight-fisted grope. He's always doing this---seizing on a passing thought or smell, an otherwise neutral moment, carrying me forward and forward... |
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