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I slid my hand down to my cock and gently started to stroke myself. I kept squeezing my tits, I had my eyes close as I imagine being with some girl. My eyes popped open. I couldn't get hard. I tried my best, I played with my balls as I rubbed my fingers up and down my cock. Nothing. All it did was get a little hard, but it was still rubbery. Suddenly, Glen was outside the door."Andy, you going to be all day or what?" I won't be much longer, Glen. I just want to take a quick shower and I'll be right out. Sorry." Did I just say sorry to Glen? I'll be right out??? I climbed in the shower and started to soap myself. All the hair was completely gone from my body. I ran the soap up my sides. I felt thinner and softer. I washed around my tits. It felt weird as they flopped around as I washed in between them. I climbed out and wrapped a towel around me, making sure I was covered as I opened the door."It's about time, Andy. What are you doing in there for Christ sakes? Get out of my way," he. Ensuring it was Vincent Vincennes who would be required to step in and spend two weeks in India to cement deals, visit the proposed sites for his company’s sanitation plants and the inevitable bribing of officials – not to mention the round of hospitality responsible for him meeting the girl who would alter everything. Two weeks away from the sanctuary of his beloved family home not two miles from that of Churchill’s former bolt-hole at Chartwell the ownership of the National Trust and the footfall of paying tourists made sure was preserved for both the nation and posterity.His associate’s malady, Vincennes had come to believe, had been a fortunate misfortune, if such a thing existed. Blood disorders, after all, were temporary and responsive to treatment.The contamination waiting to greet the friend and CEO standing in for that associate, with a tray and a drink on his first night in Kolkata, was of a power beyond the ken of medicine to heal.And how much good had it led Vincent.
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