And it looked just as thick as the dick he had in my dreams. A man-sized tool. We chatted inconsequentially for a while and I let my thigh touch his ...nd patted his arm. I had to get up to start the washing machine and come back, and when I brought in our tea. He had shifted his position so that I couldn't see the outline of his penis anymore. On purpose, out of embarrassment? "I'll try not to spill anything this time," I said. We made more small talk with me doing about 90% of the talking and. His voice had a strange note of desolate tenderness. ‘Won’t you tell me you want me, darlin’ Irene?’ ‘I…I…’ The burn in my chest nearly choked me. But I couldn’t say the words, I had never said them. He was right–words meant a great deal, because some of them were impossible to form in my mouth. If I ever could say them, my transformation would be complete. All I could do was stare into his face, my lips trembling. ‘C’mon, lie down with me,’ Deadman said, moving backwards with his arms around. More

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