We stayed like that for a little while. Her pussy throbbed at a much slower rate to previously. I did not know what to say, I looked at her face chang...ng, from agony, to a smile, then immense joy, spread across her face. She opened her eyes very slowly, and the happiest smile I’d seen on her, beamed radiantly. “Oh Peter, that was wonderful Peter. Are you okay? “Yes, it felt good Cat. But I was scared for you. You looked to be in pain. I’m sorry.” “Dear Peter, don’t be sorry, if only you. As early as age six, I clearly remember lying on the floor with images of female models from advertisements I found in magazines or store fliers from the sunday paper and grinding my stiffening cock into the unyielding floor. I liked the feel of pressure against my young plumbing.By age nine, I had befriended a neighbor whose father had a jackpot of skin mags in his attic. Penthouse, Hustler, High Society, probably other titles as well--from no later than the early eighties. The pictures and. More

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