Say one belonging to cute Master Gill – of rosy cheek and temperament – who’d been his sweet Rosalind in the last production of As You Like It (He did like it).“Forsooth,” Will thought, “there would be the rub I need.” Further thought trimmed and updated the phrase to the present.“Ay, there’s the rub” was exactly what he needed. Gay porn – I wasn’t expecting you before the sun’s rise.”Will, gobsmacked, managed, “No. Whenever, however, his hands kept going. It was hard to concentrate now. Looked up.The Earl of Oxford, in our attic?Sleep came uneasily.You now know.Applause, please.NB: My other short-short tales, “Florence in the Day” & “Afternoon Wisdom,” may be found here with my sagas “The Alexia Chronicles” & “The Birchfield Farm”.To get in touch with the author, send them an email. It was hard to concentrate now. Feel here.”Time’s petty pace favored both as it crept to climax.Tucked comfortably into his codpiece and relieved to be done and to be done quickly, Will returned to his play. “Be thy intents wicked or charitable?”Good question. His candle was sputtering.As ideas flagged. ’Tis I, Will.
