Fifteen minutes later he left the room and wondered what the hell she did for fun. He had joked with her about whips and handcuffs, dildos and vibrato...s..... disappointedly finding nothing but a rubber band and a packet of band aids. Hardy the stuff of a dominatrix. Her underwear drawer was what he imagined his grannies would look like....if he had one,..baggy and saggy. All her knickers were cotton and full, no frills no whistles and certainly no tassels. They were boring colours, and just. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.“Information, please,” I said into the mouthpiece. She was sitting at a table, an ice bucket of champagne beside her and an attentive waitress who refilled her glass whenever it needed it. She wore a pair of khaki pleated shorts and a white t-shirt that did nothing to conceal her substantial breasts. “Excuse me, Madam.” I looked up, slightly annoyed to be disturbed. The book was ‘The Story of O’ which I had read many times but each time I found something new, something surprising and, as usually happened, my cunt was wet as I read. It was also. Let me explain; I'm an eighteen year old guy, well built with dark brown hair and a hidden desire for cock. The idea of licking a shaft up to the head and swallowing it down my throat sends a shiver down my spine every time. In time, thoughts no longer satisfied me; I needed to actually taste a cock. So, I search for gay cruising spots in my local area and find one not too far away, in a disused public loo. I headed down there at the stated time, around 9PM, to try and get some action. I.