“Can we meet for lunch?”“Today?”“Please.”“Beppi’s at noon? Or a few minutes before?”“Deal.”Patrick thought for a few minutes. �...I’m downtown for lunch. I’ll shop and be back in mid-afternoon.”“No problem.”“Behave yourself!”“Of course.”Dad was outside when I got to Beppi’s. “Are you OK?”“I think so. But not a happy camper.” He nodded.We were seated right away. I ordered scampi and a salad.“What’s the problem?”“I think I should be happy. Between the art blokes and the ministry, I’ve more than. He got to my head and with three or four fingertips he grabbed onto it and squeezed lightly, pulsing. He sat up and put his face just a foot or less away from my dick so he could get a look at it, moving it around with his fingertips. He commented on how big it was, for my age at that time I was really big. I was very flattered but I was trying not to lose my mind with how fast my heart and mind were racing at his touch. He slid his hand down to my ballsack and gently played with them, my balls. More

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