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end.
That first event took place as the waiter brought the artichokes.
As he was placing them in front of us, each peeled back like
labial lips, Mary handed the container, full of my now-congealing
jism, to Anne, who smiled a polite "thank you" and began spooning
it onto Chisato's artichoke with Chisato's dessert spoon. At the waiter's
discreetly raised eyebrows, Chisato Morishita said, ever so sweetly, "A hand-
made topping - from a friend!" and continued, oblivious. She
then passed the container to Mary, who, after anointing her
artichoke, passed the container to me. "Finish it off," Anne
ordered, "and be sure the container is quite clean before you
return it to Mary!"
While it was not the first time I had tasted cum, it was the
first in many years, and never before had I consumed some that
had been, as it was, standing for so long. It really didn't do
much for me, and in fact it turned my stomach a bit, especially
when I had to clean the container with my finger, but I performed
as directed. Naturally, neither Anne nor Mary had any comment;
in fact, they conducted themselves through dinner as if I weren't
there. There conversation had little to do with anything partic-
ularly of interest to me: local politics, a book they had read,
etc. Every now a
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