As Hachikō continues to piss upon the pitiful man beneath us, her hand grabs the bulge in my pants. I still need to take a shit, but her suggestive rubbing has stirred me. It’s not the biggest of bulges. I wish it was, but when God made me, he must’ve run out of clay, or used too much up on my hands and feet. Still, what’s there is enough to get the job done; at least that’s my spin on things. Unzipping me, Meeko leans in and bites my neck. Letting out a prolonged sigh as her teeth draw blood, some birds in the branches above flap their wings and squawk, and for some reason, I’m reminded of my time back in college, specifically when I read a story about a couple fucking in a tree. If memory serves, it was The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer. I wasn’t the biggest fan, mainly on account that the language was old and difficult to read, but the story in question tickled me. The Canterbury Tales consists of many smaller tales, and the one I remember is titled The Merchant’s Tale. There was a husband who went blind, and his young wife climbed upon his back to get into a tree. There, she met her lover, and they fucked as the poor sod below prattled about on his hands and feet all blind and stupid. I think he got his sight back somehow—something to do with the gods taking pity on him—but the wife told him that what he was seeing wasn’t real. He believed it, too, the sucker. Nibbling on my ear, Meeko’s hand slides into my boxers. Wrapping her fingers around my cock, I grab hold of the branch above to steady myself. My knees are knocking, and the harder she grips me, the less control I have over these limbs of mine that, despite the lust that now captivates them, will one day be nothing but dust.