I grew up in a Baptist church. My parents and I went nearly every Sunday. One Sunday, while I was setting with another group of boys my age in Youth S...nday School, the pastor came in. The Sunday School teacher had apparently known he was going to drop in. The pastor gave us boys a stern warning about the 'sin' of touching ourselves (meaning, masturbation). As young boys, the very mention of such a thing caused an automatic nervous reaction, because, as the pastor obviously suspected (and. It was a sole businessman struggling to find his seat. At least he looked like a businessman. He was tall – well over six feet. Dark hair slightly slicked back, and what looked like a fairly taut chest under a well cut suit. The stewardess, however, had little sympathy for his rushed state. The stew swiftly guided him to the open seat in her row. She sighed audibly. Maybe sleep would have to wait. ‘I know…such a pain, but they’re pretty strict about departure rules these days,’ her new. I could feel her hot breath passing over my dick, making it twitch and throb. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and pushed it over my cock. It just barely fit in her warm, wet mouth hole. With her left hand on my thigh and her right stroking my cock, she pushed my meat against the back of her throat, gagging herself as she did. Then she would suck mercilessly while she withdrew. When her mouth only covered the head of my cock, she then sucked in rhythm, pulling on it with her mouth. "Hi sweetie. How was your day?" he asked"It was great thanks!" I replied. "Good," dad said, "dinner will beready in an hour. Why don't you go and put all your shopping upstairs inyour bedroom?" he suggested."'k," I replied and headed upstairs where I dropped off my bags in myroom and then went and joined my mother in the lounge."Ha, good luck getting my vote," my mother said as I came in to thelounge, she was sitting on the couch with her legs spread open whilewatching the news on the TV. There.