The edges that were on the frame had insulation similar to what is on the old wooden windows they built years ago. There was no way that bell would be...heard past these doors.There were eight or ten people working about the place, most of them dressed in bib overalls. They all wore goggles and earplugs. I saw Claude about fifteen feet away from me, measuring a sheet of wood on a big metal table, taking notes as he did.I walked over and stood on the other side of the table from him until he. ‘We need gel,’ I say. ‘No,’ he says, ‘we like it rough. We’re purists, nothing but Afro-American saliva to lubricate our passion.’ ‘Please,’ I say. He’s still holding still, the pain is subsiding slowly. ‘How do you feel,’ he asks after an eternity. ‘Better,’ I say. ‘I’m in by three inches, five more to go.’ I wiggle my butt. He slaps it casually. ‘More spit,’ I plead. ‘OK, he says, but it’ll hurt again.’ He exits, spits some more spit onto his dick. Another thrust, another painful. More

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