Good, he thought."And you didn't help much either. When I looked at you, I only saw yourmother. I hated it. It grew so much day by day that I couldn't...handleit. So one day I couldn't anymore. So, that night I attacked you inyour house. Its not your fault that you look like your mom. But Icouldn't help it. I just couldn't look at you. I thought I killed you.I didn't leave any loose ends. But you survived and went into a coma.It was okay, kind of. But now here you are again." So that's why you. And, I accept that you will do what you have to do for yourself. I’m doing that right now.” I captured his eyes with my own. He glared at me, but I kept firm, neither smiling nor glaring and giving what I thought was a neutral but friendly look. “I just want to know that you understand what I am saying.” He nodded, saying nothing. He let my eyes go. “I think there are a couple of ladies there who would play with you. Perhaps they both would. To be honest, the thought of watching you with Thea. Around the age of 18 I started going out to gay bars and clubs. I was not unattractive being fairly slim, dark brown hair and blue eyes, and a bit preppy in my clothing. I started having sex with men doing the gay thing, sometimes I would fuck the guy, others he would fuck me. I had lots of boyfriends, lots of gay friends and started university "out" as a gay man aged 18. When I was 20 I started dating black guys. I liked their swag, their confidence, their bodies, their dicks. All superlative. He enjoyed that and stuck his tongue out and licked my tits as they moved for his entertainment. His hands were by sis side the whole time so far, but now he started moving them on my body. First on my legs, then up towards my hips, then my butt, rubbing and slowly squeezing my cheeks, parting them a bit and then mushing them together again. Then he would move his hands up, maintaining contact with my skin the entire time, brushing over my fully exposed breasts and my sensitive nipples. I tried.