”“Really? My mom’s a gourmet chef.”“Do you cook?”“Only on a campfire. But I know a little bit from watching Mom, I often help her in the...kitchen. She makes a mean coq au vin.”“I like making that, too!”“You should talk to Mom.”“No, I’d rather talk to you, Johanna. What’s your favorite thing to talk about?”“You wouldn’t be interested.”“Try me.”“The outdoors. Horses. The West.”“I heard that your dad was from Montana. Do you still go there?”“I haven’t been since I was 12. When Dad died.” “Do you. He continued to thrust his cock inside my ass. I noticed that there was less friction between the coach’s cock and my ass hole. I felt a liquid at the base of the coach’s cock. When Coach H stopped masturbating me I picked up where he left off. I kept replaying what just happened: My baseball coach, a hairy chested man in his late 50's more than 3 times my age just shot his seed in me. I envision his cum shooting out of his rock hard cock as it moved back and forth in me, I remember the. "I guess. Don't get me wrong, talking on the phone with you is far better than nothing. But..." I sighed. "I've never been a phone person, Dawn. You know that. I mean, I've kinda always been out of sight, out of mind. I don't know how to carry on a conversation without seeing someone's face and getting that ... feedback." You'll figure it out," she said firmly. "For ME, you'll figure it out."I smiled at that. "Of course I will," I said with confidence. For Dawn, I could do anything."Besides,". After the concert we went to her house. I rubbed her little pussy through her jean shorts until she came. She rubbed my hardon through my sweats until I was ready to force my way on her, but I enjoyed the tension. “Will you jerk me?” I said. “Go pick out some lotion.” She had a collection of scented lotions by her bed. The coconut was my favorite. Her hands were rough with thick calluses from having to walk around on her hands when she was at the house, and they felt amazing on my bare skin.