" I know," I admitted. "That's why I called the agency. I thought getting laid would help and in my drunken state, that's all I could think of. While ...he dinner with Sharon was a lot of fun, and what happened afterward with the photos was mind-blowing, it wasn't enough." It wasn't?" No. But I suppose I should explain..."The next time we got together, neither Sharon nor I said anything about the pictures. I was scared she'd declare that they'd been a mistake. Instead, she seemed nonchalant and. Of course, mine might be a little easier to remember than most. Because it involved my older cousin from North Dakota. We actually had several experiences together; I guess you would call them sexual.We lived on the East Coast. But every 3 or 4 or 5 years my father would shove us all in the car and we would drive to visit the mid-western relatives. It was 3 agonizing days in the car each way, but we did it anyway. Those relatives never came to visit us, because they lived on a farm, which mean. My hard on was making it difficult to keep my attention focused on anything except the attendant’s tits and Mindy’s hand that was now down my shorts.“What ARE you doing?” I asked puzzled, but not trying to stop her.“I’m conducting an experiment on hydrodynamic tendencies. What does it feel like I’m doing?” “It feels like you are trying to get raped, for real.” I responded. She gave me that innocent “What, me?” look and kept going. She did stop for the seat belt check, done prior to take off. I. "Mr. Mendoza, may I go to the bathroom?" asked Karen. "Yes." Karen hurriedly walked out of the room and down the hall to thebathroom. Sheopened the bathroom door and there stood Betty, fixing her hair infront of a mirror. Karensteeled herself and walked into the bathroom. She got as far as thefirst stall when Betty turnedaround. "Hello, there little girl," said Betty. "You know I think I let youoff a little too easily,earlier." Karen gulped, as Betty walked up to her. "You're a prettylittle.