It’s very distracting. I always encounter a weirdo whenever I ride the train. I should take cabs more often. The man is still looking at me. I wish ... had enough courage to say, “What the fuck are you looking at?” But I simply look back at the man who’s staring at me and smiling persistently. The train finally reaches my stop, and the man slowly bobs his head rather rhythmically and says, “Have a lovely evening young lady!” I smile back at him, feeling stupid for being so paranoid. I can see. Well, you get the picture. (I generally limit myself to fifteen nowadays when just sharing masturbations. My current maximum is actually twenty-three, but most of the people involved are still complaining of headaches whenever they think of sex. And I still can't handle more than six if we all swap bodies. Needless to say, I haven't masturbated alone since the last time mentioned in this story.)Brad was very nervous, even with the effects of the drink. I linked him up with me first, then Joey,. More

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