I was watching a YouTube video of old car commercials from the 1950s and ‘60s, and that line was sung by a woman hawking Buicks. Those were the days...when American cars ruled the roads and foreign cars, like Toyotas and Datsuns, were considered junk. The only foreign car worth a damn was the VW Bug and even that catered to a narrow demographic – the weirdo who gave a shit about gas mileage. At 27 cents a gallon nobody else cared how far a car went on a gallon of gas.That’s what the old-timers. I want you to like me." I do like you, Lisa. You're not weird." I told my mom about you." You did?" I swallowed hard."Just that I have a boyfriend." Okay." I didn't tell her everything!" Yeah, um ... What did she say?" She asked me if you're nice. I told her you're really nice!" Oh." And then she asked if you're handsome and I said, oh yeah!" Okay." And then she asked me how old you are." She did?" Uh-huh," Lisa giggled. "I told her you're fifteen and she just smiled." She did?" Yeah! She just. A hard dick is a compliment" He than switched to a picture with a lady in the middle of the men. She was holding two of the guys balls. This was when I first started noticing the pain between my legs. It wasn't the same pain as a cut, but I had no other way to describe it. He than switched to a moving picture with the guys member disappearing into the girls mouth. "Mr Jones, my tinkle, hurts?" Mr. Jones responded with a chuckle. "You probably just need to sit down." He patted his knee, and I. I squatted in the saddle, lowering myself gingerly onto the upright phalluses. I knelt on top of Max, my legs drawn up under my ass cheeks, my crotch open wide, and the dildos already half way up me, shoving four inches deep into my pussy and asshole.When at last I could feel the leather of the saddle against my crotch, I groaned aloud with pain and relief. The two of them together stretched me apart like I wouldn't have believed possible. I thought my belly must bulge outward with the fullness.