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The driver's name? Harve Lattimor.I waited a while; biding my time, getting things ready. Plotting and planning like I used to do while playing games when I was a boy.I sent Mom and Dad back home, and started going to class again. I returned to my little room in the dorms. I pretended to study. Pretended to care about whatever drivel they were teaching.In my spare time, of which there was far too much, I stared at the face in my bathroom mirror and wondered who the hell he was. He didn't look like the me I remembered. The face was sorta familiar, but it never seemed to move. His eyes looked like mine, but they were lifeless and dull. My hair was red. The emotionless fucker in the mirror, his hair was white.None of that mattered. There was only one thing I cared about anymore; getting rid of the feelings that kept going endlessly round and round inside me.I made my visits to the Army recruiter, took the tests, chose my career field and signed the papers. Got my plane ticket and swore. My wife was squirming inthe corner and trying to rub her pussy with her legs. Aquick yell and she stopped immediately. After thespanking, I spread Norma ass and shoved one finger deepinside.“Who ass is this now slave,” I said.“It’s yours master. Oh yes master. I am a bad girl.”Norman cried out.By now, I was ready to test my slave girls. I toldNorma to get on the floor and I stood in front of herwith my butt to her face. I had her remove my pants andtold her put her face in there and worship my ass. Inthe meantime, I had Lynn crawl over to me and startworshipping my cock. It didn’t take long to come and Ihad both slaves continued for a while afterwards till Igot weak in the knees from the climax. Both women weretill licking as I escape and sat down in the chair.I had Lynn go get her dildo and I shoved it up her rearin front of her mother. I then made Norma go to thefrig and shave off a carrot which I made her spread herlarge ass and shove up her.
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If we had done a lot of slow kissing, and especially if he had spent enough time with my boobs (which hardly ever happened), he would push his hand down there, on the edge of my pubes, trying to be so nice and slow with it. Fuck, by then, slow was the last thing I wanted. Sometimes, I had to be the one to move his hand down between my legs. When he touched my pussy hair, he got a lot more excited than I did. His kisses got me hot. I would rub his boner through his pants, to let him know I liked what he was doing. The party was getting started! But no sex education class told boys how to touch a pussy, especially mine. Somebody had told them it was cool to ''finger'' your girlfriend, and I was okay with that if any of them knew the right way. I hate having sharp, dirty, grungy fingernails in my puss. That has no erotic charge for me, I get more of a buzz from changing my tampon or wiping my ass with paper and my clean fingers. I'm putting all this down because Gerald should have.

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