I hunch over, hands on my thighs, because running with an erection is not happening. Bending over makes me want to gag, though, and I curse that keffing avian that sold me the null root. Maybe it’s not even null root. It might just be some root from his keffing, keffing backyard. With an angry growl at my own stupidity, I cup my cock in my hand and jog for the distant human house, determined to have sex or pass out on her doorstep. Right now, either one sounds keffing great.
