I started to slide my hand over but quickly pulled it back."What's the matter?" my husband said."I'm afraid. What if that's not what the guy wants, an... he causes a commotion?"My husband leaned over and whispered, "Trust me, it's what he wants, or he wouldn't have sat next to you."I still wasn't convinced. If anything, I was more nervous than before. I was breaking out in a cold sweat.'I want to do it,' I told myself, but my hand wasn't listening to me. It rested in my lap, quivering like a bowl. " "We are at a club," I told her, "and from what I've noticed tonight lots of guys are interested in you." Also, lots of girls—but Emelda probably didn't want to deal with that just now."How do I go about it in this age?" I don't know, I'm pretty direct." Ha, I thought, that is an understatement. I'd mounted a masturbating guy in his bed earlier tonight. I'm pretty slutty is probably closer to the truth. "I could show you—but then, I have to, well, hook up. Is that okay?" Yes, I'll watch you.. More

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