That was all I could take. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock and spit in my own hand. I was every bit as hot as she was and looking back at...it I can completely understand why she did not care. I did not even look around!!! I just started sliding my hand up and down as I watched her in her lurid touch.She sank three of her fingers deep into her sopping wet slit and those fingers were covered with her hot juices. Then with two of her fingers she spread open her lips and with her. Try it and see if I’m lying. Looking back in my 1996 diary, I found an anecdote to prove this theory of mine. Yet another example of why I would always recommend to any single guy or woman to write down everything you do sexually – in sharpest detail – for posterity. It was September of that year. I was a first semester sophomore in college. I met a fellow sophomore, Katie, at a favorite bar and we hit it off. The bar led to an afterhours apartment party, and fortunately we kept each other. What harm could it do? I was no lesbian but it would be no different than the shared showers back at school. It was more than likely the alcohol but I was feeling adventurous, I agreed. I undid the button on my jeans and slid them down my legs slowly, doing a joke dance and taking two swigs of tequila and downing the rest of the Jack. Sammi laughed at my display and complemented my physique. I’d always tried to keep myself healthy and worked hard on my body. Still, to hear Sammi. I value my privacy, and it seemed the best way to separate the two.”“Yeah, I know a guy who suffered identity theft; it took him forever to get back to normal, and he’s still pretty wary about everything.”We swapped horror stories; she’d had a colleague who found a pervert camped out almost in her back yard and had quickly find another place to live. She’d been stalked on Facebook herself and found that real creepy, so much so that she’d left the platform; I guess that had reinforced her fear.