I lived in an old apartment building with my parents.The building was loaded with basements which were had the laundry facilities.They were also loade...d with unused storage lockers.So, for privacy, Sandy and I would go into those unused lockers.The biggest challenge was making sure we kept quiet so that we didn't alert the people doing laundry to our presence.That wouldn't have been good, especially since we were usually partially if not fully undressed.One afternoon after school we went into. Even though I had lost the flab and was now fairly ripped, I still thought of myself as the fat kid. So the one or two cold winter nights I got as far as making out with girls at college were often ruined by my poor self-image or by being too much of a gentleman. That was the extent of my hands-on experience. I knew plenty of theory from magazines and movies, but in practice I was untried. And in the end I told her just that."That's what I thought." She said before turning her head and looking. Our pickle juice makes it enjoyable for the woman. Pickle is just a way for us to refer to a penis to avoid unnecessary business complications.”“And juice is your way of saying cum?”“No, the juice is what makes it fun. Can I come in and show you what pickle juice is all about?” I patted my satchel.“Okay.”I entered and went straight toward the living room. I sat down on the sofa and opened up my satchel. I took out my wares.“Your next-door neighbor Jessica decided to buy some and Eliza next to. I can now see the gentle curves of her small frame. As I watch her still firm breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes, my mind drifts back to years past.Now the room is light enough that I can see the small heart shaped tuft of hair that has had the spot of honor just above her pussy for over 30 years. Slowly, as the light increases I can see the outline of her pussy clearly, and I wonder how many cocks have had the privilege to part those lips and how many loads of cum have been.