A cool breeze ruffled my skirt as I stood on tiptoes to reach him. The kiss went on for a moment or two before he stopped me, pushing me back to arm's...distance.“Allie, I…” He trailed off, searching my face. I again moved to close the distance and he stopped me. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?”“I'm not drunk.” I lied.“No I mean… are you sure about this?” He asked. In answer, I again closed the distance between us, wrapping an arm around his neck as I placed the other on his chest. This. My lack ofexperience, right from the get-go, meant I would last a dozen strokesor less. I'd cum, she'd more or less push me off, go to the toilet toclean out, and then back to bed in boring P.J.'s, on her side of thebed, no cuddling. She didn't ever want to touch my penis. Shethought it was disgusting.So I became a masturbator. I mean, of course I'd done that as a youthtoo, incessantly, every day, sometimes multiple times a day. My fiveinch uncut penis became my best friend, the center of. More

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