She said good thank you so much now go back to what you were doing. She stood there and said it again go back to what you were doing when I walked up.... She then said come on I want to watch you, you have a fucking nice cock boy sit down and stroke it for me . She pulled my towell off of me and reached past me to the table grabbed the bottle of baby oil flipped the lid open and squirted some right on my cock .I was hard as hell sticking upward and out . I sat down and I started to sroke my. I imagine them singing: We know where you’re going, we know where you’re going!’ I get a grip of myself. I get closer to my dirty destination. My excitement… and anxiety increase. What if I suffer a heart attack? I visualise the headlines in the local paper: Respectable local man dies in brothel – partner never knew. Witty whispers: ‘He went before he came!’ I alight at Pokesdown Station – aptly named – and I’m reminded of a rough suburb of London. I stroll down Boscombe High Street trying not. More

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