Rob and I had cocks about what would be categorized as “normal sized.” Well that couldn’t be said for the other fellows. One had a cock that was...a couple of inches longer than normal but the other fellow had a porn sized cock. He had to have a nine inch cock that had an upward curve. It seems that they were enjoying the show as much as we did. I continued to suck Rob’s cock gently but with enough pressure that he was beginning to squirm a bit. His hand reached out and slowly pushed me away. I. He’d scoured New York’s thrift stores the next day, assembling his ratty-but-technically-sufficient ensemble. The elbow-patch jacket quickly became his favorite article of clothing-according to her usage data-and he’d worn it on the majority of their dates, since. Dinner, of course, had been excellent, crowned by the particularly fortunate beaujolais nouveau which is, even now, plummeting towards the floor. The conversation had started out light with bad weather and politics. He carefully. In the process, the buttoned up blue man's dress shirt (HEY. Was that mine?) came all undone. No bra. And the cheerleader-length skirt got flipped up (Who could have done that? Not me, I was innocent. HAHA). No panties either."Ry, I'm not putting on my seat belt, so you'd better be real careful." That was all she said. What she DID was sit sideways on the seat, popped one titty out of the shirt, placed one sneaker-clad foot on the dashboard, proceeded to lift up her skirt, and started stroking. There was a small bar in the corner. Soft leather couches divided the room into intimate spaces and for those that wanted even more intimacy there were small booths with heavy velvet drapes to provide a little extra privacy. And of course there were the mirrors. Lots and lots of mirrors.Any remaining doubts were removed on seeing the activities taking place around the room. There were other punters, but it was hard to see them past the naked girls writhing on their laps. On the centre stage a.