It sounded eastern European of some sort, perhaps Russian or Ukrainian or Slovakian. ‘You have the cutest accent,’ I commented. ‘Where’d you g...t it from?’ ‘I’m from Russia,’ she answered. ‘A little town south of Minsk that you probably never heard of.’ ‘That’s what I thought!’ I replied. ‘Say, that’s not far from where my mother’s family came from. They’re Lithuanian, but don’t ask me exactly where.’ ‘You have a nice place here, Greg,’ she said looking around the yard. ‘Have you lived here. All I remember in my head was how impossibly big it was and…elephants….cuz’ you know, it looked like a huge elephant’s trunk, and elephants are huge…it makes sense right?Without any prompting from the apparently amused Josh, I started to slowly jack his jumbo sausage. It felt so strange in my hands. I could feel every ridge, every pulsing vein, even the rushing blood. It was rough to touch, or maybe, “defined” was the better word. It was stiff as much as a muscle could ever go, but still. More

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