I used to go down the pub with my dad and enjoy the banter of his friends, I was thirteen, did not drink, but the focus of the men as they got drunk.A... these times, I was groped, they used the drink as an excuse, but I never complained as their hands touched me intimately, especially in the back seat, where I choose to sit on their laps, as we all crushed into the car.Daddy was always drunk as were they, so I would choose the guy who showed the most interest in me, and climb in and choose his. .. there's a college one state over that has a sociology scholarship for you, not that you care for the subject. You'll just milk it however you can while you figure something out... the only problem is, you will be moving away from everything you know.What did you care about here-?Well, it's mostly you; you're a good looking guy, a little over six feet tall. You have dyed black hair and masculine, slightly gaunt facial features. You wore a lot of plaid or checkerboard stuff, skinny jeans,. Seven years shot to hell ... all because of one ... God, how I hate that fucking bitch, ' he thought while palming the last rock. Drawing a solid bead on the poor mailbox, he let loose with all the fury he could muster. His flash of pride was short lived as it ricocheted off the back of the small metal enclosure into the rear window of his car."Oh fuck," he half shouted as the sickening sound caused him to dash over, only to discover there was no damage. Unlike the pain in his gut, he couldn't. Then I felt your left hand squeeze my ass cheek and slip to my center. Still kissing my neck, you worked your fingers through my ass, over my soaked back hole, and up my pussy slit to my swollen clit. I didn’t know which set of lips to put my attention to. I was moaning nonstop and was moving my hips, trying to bring more contact with my pussy and your fingers. Teasing me. You always had a way of pushing my buttons. Tease me. Now you pinched my clit. Not hard but hard enough to get me to that.