Later, Monty let the hot water of the shower relax his muscles, and a lifetime habit of not wasting water made him turn off the stream while he lathered up. Still tumescent, his body responded to the soaping, so Monty shrugged and resolutely turned his thoughts to other girls, other times, as he gave himself up to pleasure. If God didn't want humans to play with their genitals He shouldn't have placed them where they fall so readily to hand, he thought drowsily.
The shower over, Monty rustled up some dinner and sat down with a book. He had a couple of hours to kill before the wild boar would head down out of the hills for a feed of prime baled barley hay. Monty intended to see that it would be his last meal.