A late night out with friends after a most stimulating discussion at the London Scientific Foundation dinner the previous evening had rendered me lethargic and un-nimble in my ablutions, in fact having just spilled a trail of urine off the corner of my bedpan in a blurry attempt to relieve myself of whatever libations I had partaken of the previous night. Absinthe as I recollect, although that may have been a previous night. No. Certainly it was last night, the bitter aftertaste of the wormwood still supporting a waxy coating on the back of my tongue. Most unusual properties, the absinthe, in providing a marked increase in euphoria on ingestion, but a most unappealing after effect on the body the following day, with a trembling and disorientation most unusual as compared to the other more standard digestifs we men are wont to partake of while in amicable groups. Finishing the ill attempt at what would normally be the thought free endeavor of relieving my bladder, I slowly and. What if Barry had taken the time to thoroughly go through all the compartments after I'd run off to my room last night. I went into the den and found it laying on the sofa. Flipping it open I slipped my hand inside the tiny compartment along the side and found Franklin's business card. "Whew." I said then thought I lucked out there. Since the night before last when he and I had fucked outside Flannagan's in his car I'd thought more than once about how it might feel with his massive cock shoved down my throat. The idea of having him throat fuck me with his thirteen inch cock sent my mind into over drive. His cell phone rang twice before he answered. "Franklin speaking." He said answering my call. It's Margaret." I replied and when he didn't answer I said. "From Flannagan's the other night." "Oh yeah." He said some what surprised that I was calling. I decided to get right to the point. "What cha ya up to today?" I asked. "Nothing special." He answered. "Well how would ya like to.
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