The thought made him twitch, and he reached his hands down over her buttocks and slipped his fingers between her thighs to feel what was going on. It ...as true! His cock was resting in her little outer slit. This was so wrong, but it felt so good. he moved his hands back up to her waist and hugged her a little. This caused her body to push down against him a little and felt nice on his cock. This was so wrong, he knew… but what harm could come of it? He rhythmically hugged her for a few minutes,. He felt his refinement, the very culture that he had clawed, fought to obtain, slip through his fingers as he regressed. Poised on the brink of adulthood, only eighteen years old, uncertain, uncomfortable within the confines of his own body, once more he stood at the door of Mrs Beadle’s emporium, overwhelmed by the scent of flesh that seemed to spill from the windows and into the street, ripe and rotting. As he hesitated, he received a blow to the head before his father snatched at his shirt. More

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