As soon as we were out of sight of those walking around the trail I started to make out with the man. He was all over me and feeling up my shirt to pi...ch my nipples as he stuck his tongue down my throat. I then felt his hands on my shoulders that pushed me down to my knees. My Costco friend had already freed his thick veiny cock from his pants and his hands were guiding my head, pushing me towards his cock. I let the cock slide between my lips until it hit the back of my throat. Normally, I. The reality isn’t pretty. But this was fantasy. As fantasy it was deliciously submissive, but totally not sustainable. So, it remained a subject for fantasy, and play. Actually being cut wasn’t like whip marks. Clitorises, once pruned, they don’t grow back.This is story is fictionalized reality. Stuff that happened at different times, and with different people, conflated, rewritten, made simple and manageable. IT WAS A GAME we played with each other occasionally while the boys were away in. More

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