Collect.

Producing a Beaker that had somehow escaped my notice, Dr. Owens pulled away from Amos, aimed his member at it, and used her hand to continue stimulating him. With a great groan, and not an insignificant amount of **** behind it, Amos fired off his seed into it.

It would appear that Dr. Owens was not boasting about her son's virility. Thick jets of seed spewed forth from him like Ropes, and in a worrying quantity and duration. Had I a Clock, I could have provided a much more accurate report, but it felt that about a minute had passed before he had concluded. And even then, Dr. Owens was hard at work, wringing out even more from him.

By the time that they were finished, Amos was panting heavily, sweat dripping off his cheeks. Dr. Owens on the other hand, was holding up the quarter-filled Beaker up to the small window, squinting at it and swirling it around, as if examining it. "How are you feeling, Amos?" she asked, looking over to him.

"Haa... much better. Much better Mother, thank you," he replied, letting out a long breath before continuing, "but more importantly, how is it? Is it to your satisfaction?"

I hoped to believe that they had completely forgotten about me, because she said to him, quite plainly, and frankly, wistfully, "Well, you know I'm never truly satisfied without it pouring out from inside of me, but..." Picking up the other Beaker, she studied them both intently, putting her nose in them and taking some deep breaths, prodding her finger into them and testing the viscosity, all before tasting them with her mouth. "Hm..." she mused, after a bit of chewing, "I think... usual differences aside, maybe there's a slight change between this morning's and now's. I wonder why?"

"It might be because you threatened to leave me up here because I made a joke, Mother," he replied snidely, "or it might be because we have an audience."

Dammit. He hadn't. Clearing my throat loudly, I said to them, "Perhaps. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I think I'd better take my leave. Do you require any assistance getting down, Mr. Amos?"

"Oh no, no. Thank you for the offer, but getting down won't be a problem for us," he smiled in my direction. "A pleasure to meet you once again, Mr. McCoy. I hope that the next time we meet, I'll be in a state to properly shake your hand."

I would have corrected him about my name, but instead I just nodded at him and Dr. Owens, and left her clinic. Looking out to the sky, and unsure if the darkness looming over was a storm overhead or simply the time asserting itself, I decided to return to my accommodation, when I met with someone on the way there.