"Sorry. It stays pretty warm at night here," he apologizes.Why's he apologizing!? I'm the one who burst in here and stared at his giant throbbing..."U... ... no, I'm sorry. I ... uh ... I need your cock—your keys. Your car keys." GET A FUCKING GRIP, RUTHERFORD! I can feel the heat of my blush like my cheeks are on fire.He chuckles quietly, "Really, don't worry about it."I hear him stand up, and then there is some rustling. I know I should leave, but my feet won't move. I'm just rooted there, in. Of course, if it didn't go into one of the refrigerated modules it went up to the kitchen and into the care of Betty and her team of helping hands. We had rows upon rows of food that needed to be canned and Betty dealt with it as it got picked. We soon had hundreds of jars of pickled cauliflower, beets, baby onions, and cucumbers stacked neatly in the storage container. We also had preserved tomatoes, beans, peas, and baby carrots, and more jars of salsa, relishes, and tomato sauce. It required. More

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