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or eight glasses of water
from the bathroom sink.
Getting dressed posed a problem. My old jockey shorts were out of the
question. Shorts in general were out of the question. I tried all my
baggiest pants but the cock wouldn't fit into any of them. It was
obvious that I needed to buy new clothes, but how could I go out?
I walked into the living room and started searching through the old
junk mail for men's clothing ads. One flyer showed a pair of
extremely baggy nylon parachute pants: the kind of thing rap singers
wear. I called the store and asked them to hold a pair of their
baggiest style in my size. They only had purple and yellow, so I told
them to hold both.
The hall closet offered the last chance for something to wear and it
didn't fail me. Wearing a trench coat in July seemed a little strange
but I had no choice. The next problem was that without pants I looked
like a flasher. I managed to put on trousers by leaving the fly open
and putting the belt through the back loops only. I had to curl the
cock upward to k
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