You climb on top and we lock eyes. You slowly enter me, push as deep as you can, and you hold it there. How did you know to do that? I feel my cunt cl...ose around your prick and still you wait. I wrap my legs across that handsome dimpled ass of yours. “Just. Fuck me.” And you do. You withdraw and I anticipate the plunge and drive my hips up to meet yours. You repeat and this time I just, let you. We develop a rhythm and hold to it. You grab my ass again and reposition our bodies. I feel your. In the beginning, seventh grade, there were only a couple of guys who’d gone through puberty and begun to develop. By ninth grade most had begun to show hair and growth in the masculine department.I was about in the middle of the pack in terms of timing; in eighth grade I began to grow pubic hair and my balls grew and started to hang. My cock, however, never got much bigger. By mid-high school some of my schoolmates had seven inches; I still had about four. The coach didn’t supervise showers. She brought it to me and stood behind me. It wasn’t until it was on that I realised it had no back, stopping at my hips. Her hair brushed my face as she said, ‘I bought this for you. I had to guess your size but it seems okay, no?’ I laughed. ‘It’s not really suitable for a stroll in the park.’ ‘That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’ Still standing behind me she ran her hands over my breasts, across my stomach, down the front of the skirt and around to stroke my exposed buttocks. Her hand. He was short, stocky, balding — but he had a beautiful cock and also had the balls and manners to ask me out after I told him about my situation. Max was divorced — his wife used to swing with him — and he lived north of me. We chatted on three consecutive days and got to know each other till we felt comfortable enough to talk about what we liked sexually. I eventually agreed to meet him when he said he’d take me out to dinner at a restaurant in his town. I knew the place. Friday night I didn't.