This one day, as we’re lying beside each other Shawn suddenly exclaims, “I need to pee!” And he quickly hops up and starts pissing. I laugh, wat...hing him piss out into the woods, but then he turns around, aims his warm stream of piss directly at me. “What the…?!” I gasp when his piss first hits my face, then I just open my mouth and take it all in, letting his golden stream fill my mouth until it spills out and down my torso. Rather than turn away or move to avoid his warm piss flow, I lean in. It appears Metzendorf was in England to ascertain the market for Satan’s Breath, and was handing out free samples, although anyone wanting more would need to pay the hefty price of five guineas a wrap. Obviously, Satan’s Breath is a luxury item, which the hoi polloi will never be able to afford. Now Metzendorf is no more the cartel of rich and influential men behind the enterprise will need to appoint a new distributor. Wycombe would have been a likely candidate, had he not fallen from his. More

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