The attendant knows me and we talk about nothing. ‘So, what’ve you been up to, tonight?’ I think that he looks to smart to work here and I’d l...augh if I didn’t work in a bowling alley. ‘Getting drunk, same ol’. You know.’ I grin while I pack my cigarettes and he does something esoteric and gas station attendant-like. It seems like his whole job is a clip-board and a checklist that I’ll never understand. ‘How’s your night been?’ ‘Same ol’. Drunk people from your job making mine hell.’ The kids. After a few minutes, I looked up to see her in the lounge chair watching my every move and rubbing her clit. I stared at her nicely trimmed, pouty pussy as I began to hump the oily raft. She then began rubbing herself down with oil. This is a vision that still drives me out of my mind. I could hardly take it any longer, so I got up and laid on top of her as she motioned me over. Our bodies were so slick against one another, as I pushed my cock inside her. She grabbed my ass, as I picked up. “But I must warn you, Jim shoots more cum than any man I have ever seen. Are you ready to be filled up and frosted like a cake?” My fear just melted away at that question. I had seen so many cum shots in pornos, and they always turned me on more than anything. “God, yes,” I said. “Sissy? For tonight, I am your teacher, and you will call me, ma'am, understood?” The thought of such a rigid rule thrilled me. My mother taught me haw to enjoy being submissive. “Yes, ma’am.” I turned my eyes. Not an accusation, either, though. His cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his pyjama pants, eager to hear more, his mouth eager to taste her Riesling and oh God, so eager to taste anything else she had to offer. She stepped closer, whispering now. “I like being watched, Jon.” He could’ve sworn that she could see his heart literally skip a beat, or four, at these words. She was watching him, waiting for...what? A reaction? His breathing changed involuntary, and he was quite sure that even.