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I took this exhibition back to the table, to clear away dishes, and take more drink orders. The ladies could not hide their fixation on my erection, and the juice emanating from it. I did nothing to relieve this fixation, but as I returned to the yard, I ensured that they could see me take the juice into my hand, and spread it around my cock. I began pruning various shrubs, ignoring my erection, but keeping it well within view. Eventually, the erection began to subside, and the day proceded without further excitement. People now spoke to me directly, pleasantly, but not provocatively. I went about my tasks, but I now felt I had become part of the group.Those episodes took place more than twenty years ago. The women continued to meet every three or four months. I have witnessed them emerge from the frailty and anger, that dominated their behaviour and discussions, when we first started. One or two have moved away. One is now suffering the onset of dementia, but she still. Why should she try to hide it? Seeing all the microphones pushing towards her, the 'WhatsNew.com' one predominant by its size, she found herself wondering if the size of a man's microphone was proportional to the size of his dick. God she was horny.They were all shouting out questions, even Mr. Big Mic. It was hard to tell what they were saying with all the shouting. She looked out across the sea of reporters and cameramen. It felt dream-like. She felt dizzy.Susan was shouting now and some of the microphones turned toward her. But not the big one."I get the big one," Donna thought and she giggled."Mrs. Travers is not feeling well," Susan was saying. "Please, just let us go. We'll have a press conference tomorrow." I feel fine, thank you" said Donna in a dreamy voice."What's wrong with her?" shouted a reporter. They were finally calming down enough to ask one question at a time."We won't know that until tomorrow," said Susan. "They have to run tests. We'll tell you then." Mrs..
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