I could feel it. Was I dead? No, the cover stopped at my chest. My chest. I could feel the pain just below the surface. Why wasn’t anyone here? Was ...his a morgue? I had to make someone understand … I wasn’t dead. I lay there, trying to assemble the information I had available. I was alive, it was dark, I was on some kind of a platform, I was hurt, but … what else? At some point I could hear noises. Footsteps, I thought. That’s good. Someone is coming for me. But they never did. And little gong. It jutted in through the window of my hot rod, casting a moon shadow on the leatherette tuck 'n' roll uphol­stery. He was uncircumcised, and a leathery foreskin shrouded his cockhead, giving me just a peek at the tip. I smelled the musky odor of a sweaty crotch. The black hole at the end of his cock reminded me of the muzzle of his .38 pistol, and I stared like a deer caught in the headlights. "Awright," he growled, "suck it."As I opened my mouth, he put his hand behind my head and yanked me. More

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