.begging for my cock...well, now you're gonna get it! But first...we're gonna have some fun..."His hand stopped for a moment then surged forward into...my crotch, rubbing, squeezing. I squirmed and moaned, bucking my hips, not wanting to like it, but loving every bit of being m*****ed. He stopped and laughed as I sat panting in the chair."I think you like this, don't you?"I nodded and then begged to be let go. Truly begged. Sincerely. Aroused but scared. I begged and begged and begged.He. Every school has them. Everyneighbourhood has them. And being smaller than most of my peers, and adancer to boot, meant I was called every cruel name under the sun, inthe halls and such. Fag. Homo. Bitch. Fudge-packer. Girly-boy. Ialways figured the best response was no response at all, so I alwaysjust ignored them. After school, occasionally, I had to run. I wasfaster than all the big boys, the bullies, and could embarrass them bymore or less leaving them in my dust. Teachers from. “Do you want to go in?” I indicated towards the bed room. She nodded and I led her in the bedroom. The bedroom was dark with only the side lamps on.She climbed up and lied down on the bed and looked at me. I climbed over her top to the other side and started caressing her cheek. Her eyes were closed and I moved my hand down gently caressing her breasts and tummy.It was hard for me to control myself any longer and I started pushing my hands inside her pants. She shut her eyes tightly. I moved up. The people I saw - or men I should say, they were all men - dark against the bright mist and other than broad physical proportions, featureless. They never spoke. However, as it may sound, when a man came up to me I could sense his emotions and my emotions would seem to synchronize with his.Let me try to explain. Remember, I said I felt detached. Somehow, I knew I was there to be assessed, to be bartered or purchased. That didn't upset me in the least. It seemed so natural, as did everything.