. we're. . . even?” she offers looking up at me. As I struggle to get my brain back on track I realize I should be careful just in case she suddenly... gets cold feet. . . . or cold ass, or cold anything else. . .. and runs away.“Yeah. . . I think we are,” I reply calmly. I let go of my erection and relax my stance a bit. “It's great that you're nude,” I tell her.Sandy carefully places her hands on her thighs as if she misses her pockets and inhales slowly. “Well. . . . last night. . . after I. Just beyond were the fair grounds and we were headed for the livestock barn where I would be stalled. The son waved “HI” to a lot of people because the dairy family was so well known and this was a big annual gathering. Many who had waved pointed at me when the truck moved by. Others looked a little shocked and I supposed the word on the street had not yet warned everyone about my experience in front of church. I stood still and didn’t try to be a smart ass, stopped waving my penis at anybody. Her journey here started some time back. She came from a well to do family, her father was a radiologist and her mother was an executive for a large software company. They had a nice home in the leafy suburb of Turramurra on Sydney's North Shore and she went to Abbotsleigh, a private Anglican school for girls at Wahroonga not far away. As she entered her teens she'd led a fairly sheltered and comfortable middle class life living with her parents as their only c***d and as a result was somewhat. I always found it better to let them think that they were seducing me, rather than let them think I was a slut gagging for it.Anal sexMy first understanding was when my mother was cleaning her collection of sex toys and my eyes fell on a pouch she had of butt plugs, of varying widths, starting with a tantalising teaser, and ending with something resembling a garden 'Dibber', for planting full sized onions.My curiosity was quelled when mother pushed one up my arse, laughing as she did so,.