When I'm in The Program, or maybe even if I'm not, I'd likely be called on in biology at some point, of course. Such is my fame.The culinary offerings...at lunch looked no worse here than they'd been in middle school, but no better, either. I was carrying my tray toward a distant table -- this cafeteria was at least four times the size of the one I was used to -- when I heard a snatch of conversation from a table of fashionably dressed upper-class girls, conversation obviously intended for my. I'm just curious what a man would carry in ahandbag."I hold the bag open for her, dreading what might come out.She reached in and pulled out a packet of tissues, a pen, my small workdiary."Very masculine," she grinned about the book as she placed it on thecounter: a butterfly motif on the cover and a narrow pink ribbon to markpages. "Here we go."She'd hit the mother lode. My small make-up bag. She unzipped it.Compact mirror, lipstick and mascara. She considered my bare face."Maybe you should. When I touched it, he moaned. I was very impressed at how warm and soft it was, yet how powerful it felt in my hand. It was similar in shape and size to mine, but felt so very different than my own. My head was really spinning now. It was not the alcohol, but it was the excitement. The pure sexual lust and desire that comes with an anonymous sexual encounter. We stroked each other for a while. I did not really look at his face much, just concentrated on his body. It’s not that I was embarassed,. “Daddy, would you return the favour please?”“What?”“I want you to eat my pussy, daddy.”“You want me to what?”“Eat my pussy, let me sit on your face.” I pull the little lever next to his seat and it goes crashing back so that he’s now lying down and I’m sitting upright on his pelvis. I unzip my dress and slowly pull it over my head. I pull off his shirt so he’s wearing nothing and I’m only in my red lace bra and panties. I slide my panties off and crawl up the seat so that my boobs are in his.