He paused for a moment and asked with a flat, serious voice, the voice of someone doing a census:"You think my ass is sweet? As in, lovely-looking? Pe...rhaps, even, hot?" Stop saying shit like that." So you're just not as good at it as you'd like? Is that why you have this weird fascination and keep saying women ain't -" Not as good at - the hell. I do not ... Suck ... Cock! Period!"I made it pretty certain then that the flustered red on my face was not war paint but blood past its boiling point.. My bad luck or good luck I got a call from my friend.He was coming home so I had to stop this act. I left without talking to her. After my friend left my home , her door was locked. I couldn’t think much so had lunch and lied on bed.After 30 min I saw her in her house. She opened the door but she went inside silently. I hugged her from back but she told not to touch and found her tears . I dint want to hurt her so asked for the reason she said’ mein gandi ladki hoon,mere pati ko dokha de. I had been an early bloomer safely ensconced in the family estate near Cornwall and managed to remain a sort of capricious creature with plenty of available cock to choose from whenever the need arose. Of course, my traditional-minded parents were convinced I was a virgin long after the dirty deed was actually accomplished late one night by a drunken house guest with no idea whose snatch he was diddling in the darkened hallway. I certainly hope he didn't think it was my mommy's because she was. They didn't speak much English because they were all recent Portugese immigrants, but I figured we didn't need a long conversation to have some fun. I looked out at those yummy men and thought, "why am I using a candle when I could have the real thing?" So I waited for them to have lunch - they always retreated to their windowless van for lunch. I supposed there were seats in the back. It was pouring rain...I went out with my CFM sandals, a skirt that could be lifted up easily and no.