Lynne a whole six months older than me then went on to show me what she meant, from then on I was hooked, not a day passed without me pleasuring mysel... at least once.As the next four years passed I would masturbate where ever the mood took me. I also experimented with objects, mums washing machine worked well if I pushed up against a corner during a wash. I also found that my vagina could be used to help my pleasure, Lynne had been stuck on her clitoris or fun button as she had called it. A boy. When this young woman came in that I guessed to be a university student, yet she dressed with class. A tight white sweater, short skirt that showed off her long tanned shapely legs (my weakness.) I looked her over as she stood in line and she looked me over where I sat with a mischievous smile on her full lips. Then I looked at the way she moved her hips as she sauntered to a table close at hand. Her? Our? Story in poetical prose of rhythmic stanzas that will curl a girl’s toes. No rings she. More

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