In spite of myself, I dripped with excitement. The steady secretion of the centuries kept me on the perpetual edge of sexual fulfillment, the eternal ...enial of orgasm making me willing to endure anything for just a second’s respite. Hell remained inside myself, dripping down and down from my cunt, the entirety of my being transformed into this caustic cauldron of bubbling condemnation. He pulled up my shirt, my nipples bulging out roughly over the top of my brasserie. His inexperienced hands. In my Tom Jones persona, I usually didn't visit a saloon until after supper, and I usually visited only one per night. I did that to try not to make it too obvious that I was actually hunting for the two men I tentatively identified as Jed Acton and Hank Gibbs. I couldn't be certain that they were the two I was looking for, but they seemed to fit the description I could give.On several occasions, one man or the other showed up in a saloon I was not visiting, but it was enough to know that I was. More

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