As she rounded a turn I read the name on the back of her shirt — …busther. What? A typo on the jersey. Shouldn’t that have been bust...r? But the it hit me — it wasn’t a typo it was a nickname — Bust Her. It was a play on those enormous tits and the fact that she was one of the toughest chicks out there. She gave shoulder and hip checks that belonged in the NHL. I hoped that I could withstand her onslaught. After the match I waited outside. We didn’t have. I would produce so much since I was literally aroused for hours sometimes that it would actually run down to my scrotum! Still I had no urge to masturbate or have fantasies or antyhing that I remember. So fast forward to about 5th or 6th grade. Piano lessons. Since my sister and I both had the lessons, I had to wait out in this single ladies (she wasn't hot, very plain) living room while my sister had her half hour. So I got to pillage! Well she was plain and didn't wear nice pantyhose. . More

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