I wasn't supposed to be there. You'll think me a liar but I .. (OnlyFans)

I wasn't supposed to be there. You'll think me a liar but I can say it truly was by chance. People say that when they have been caught in the wrong, someplace they shouldn't have been. I could make an argument that, perhaps, I was in the wrong place, but caught, not yet. But she would have her claws into me drastically soon.

I broke down. That was how it started. I broke down on the side of the bloody road. What I mean to say is, it wasn't so much as I broke down, it was that, the fool, i am forgot to put enough gas in the tank. This was embarrassing and somewhat left me with a feeling of impotency. Being too proud and stubborn, instead of calling AAA, I opened my MAPS app and found the nearest gas station. I didn't carry a gas canister with me, because why the hell would I ever need one? So i tucked up my collar, pulled my cap low and started the hike in the cool, pre-thanskgiving, November wind. 

The coolness caught in my throat, my breath like tiny sputters of ice. When I exhaled it was a mighty plume of fog that dissipated the moment I stepped into its present.

Five miles didn't seem impossible. I'm in - without sounding as though I'm boasting - above descent shape. I'm in my early fourth decade of life and there are still six packs under my coat. Not bad for what some would consider and older man. I say I'm as youthful as I feel. And that is only proof in my stamina, without that, I would no longer be the god that shrieks from their lips while I am buried inside, wetness lubricating our lust and god's name spoken with fierce fire as they cum - the lovers I've had - and praise me for my stamina.

It's a gift for I have no explanation or secret receipt to last and produce like a perfectly constructed conveyor belt-line. No. I have been gifted with stamina and it was that stamina I believed would take me to the gas station through the growing cold of the failing light. As much as I don't like to brag and don't like humility very well either. I hadn't made it three miles - let's be honest it was probably two - when I saw the poorly constructed farmhouse.

There was an exhaust fan where smoke was pluming out on the side of the farmhouse, what I quickly thought was just a home or even a B&B, was in fact a tavern.

The Moon.

Not that moon, the ones that have a asphalt parking area, a place for smokers, two gorilla's on either side of the entrance like statues, and a kind old lady - Fairy Tale old - with her hand outstretched seeking wealth from me. Her fingers called for the cash - real paper, no digital/credit card accepting joint.