It was generally accepted in the broadcasting world that youth drove the ratings game and their programming constantly strove to cater to youthful pre...erences.Unfortunately, their world seemed to be centered in a tight radius around lower Manhattan or way out on the left coast in the vicinity of Hollywood and Vine.Everything else was the “wastelands” of uncool America or the funny-talking realm of foreign types used only for comic relief to make ignorant watchers feel good about themselves. His name was Mr. Rushman. Mr. Rushman was retired and was, I guessed, about sixty-five years old. His wife had died about four years back. He struck me as lonely. Whenever he saw me outside, he made it a point to strike up a conversation. Whenever we talked, the way he looked at me made me feel like he was somehow attracted to me. This realization had always turned me on, and I would notice myself taking on feminine mannerisms as we chatted.He always took a great interest in me, and it seemed. We look on, seeing my boy doing what's natural, kind of turns me on. I stand off from the women, whose so concentrating on what's happening to the dogs and rub the front of my trousers, my cock stirs straining at the front of my Levi's I kind of turn half away and undo the flies and pull my cock out, and start flapping. Man it feels good, cock out in the fresh air looking back at the dogs he's still in, she's not looking my way. I'm just might cum."What the fuck are you doing, you pervert". the. The young man has always been scared of me. We will be good friends by the end of it,” replied Manoj sir.“And if it gets too late, he is more than welcome to stay here, Savi,” added Deepti.Savi nodded with a smile, leaving Kishen with Deepti and Manoj sir.“Lock the door and take a seat,” said Manoj sir pointing to the sofa after regaining composure from laughing.Kishen frantically did as ordered.Despite a moderately big pot belly and grey hair, Manoj sir looked fit for a 60-year-old man. Kishen.