He lifted me up and I started to grind against him. “Later,” he said. “First: ice cream.” Master had made me sit outside while he ordered. Whe... he came out with a single half pint, I was confused, but now I felt joyful and horny. I watched him enjoy his ice cream and memorized the forceful way he pressed his spoon into the container, curve of his wrist, the flash of delight that spread across his face when the ice cream hit his tongue. The way he lapped and licked his spoon clean reminded me of. Now John sat in the Longhorn Saloon, one of his habitual haunts, a classic cattle driver's bar where men crowded around the bar to turn their pay into glasses of bourbon and smokes, prostitutes sold their wares in corners, and lawmen on the door gave a menacing glance to anyone whose hand was too close to their shooter. All in all, it was John's sort of place.He sat in a booth off to one side, the velvet seat and dirty table lit by a flickering gas lamp, a double whiskey in one hand and a. More

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