Can you understand what I mean? I am so used to being treated like a whore, that I miss being treated like a whore!" Porsche explained. "Yeah, I can ...nderstand that, I think. People gravitate towards what they are used to. There have been lots of studies done on that–a girl who grows up in a house full of boys will be a tomboy. And a girl who grows up in a home with nothing but girly-girls will be that way herself," I said."That's right. And a woman who has been treated like she doesn't matter. I felt him get into position behind me and in between my legs when I felt what I thought was his cockhead press against my pulsing asshole. As I felt him surge into me I realized it was not his cock as whatever he was using was stretching me to my limit as he pushed it deep into my ass until he got it in deeper than anything I have taken to this point. I had never been so opened up and fucked so deep that it actually was hurting a bit and I was contemplating putting a stop to it when he leaned. "Who do you think it is?" Asked Frank, nodding in the direction of the slapping, squishing sound of wet flesh-on-flesh."Dunno." Replied Joe. "Maybe it's Coach Jones!"They laughed to think of their rugby master like that and Frank peeled the skin from the head of his cock like some exotic fruit, stroking the shaft luxuriously as Joe spat in his palm to aid his hand-over-fist action."It still looks to me like you got a couple of coconuts hanging down there." Joe smiled, leering at Franks. It was months before I had any direct sexual interaction with another person. I spent hours in those theatres masturbating and edging, watching other horny guys masturbate and blow each other. I loved being watched and seen by strangers with my hard cock out. But the first time I did more than watch or be watched was at a store/theatre just up the street from my favourite spot.This place was upstairs and it's door on the street opened to a stairway that went up to a lobby. A front counter was.
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