Tell me…

I learned then how to be that friend that the young ladies could recount all of their early sexual encounters with.

We didn’t have internet back then, so if you didn’t have a dad that kept a stash of Playboy or Hustler mags hidden in a box in the closet, the best exposure you could get to sex was first hand.

I remember the first time one of my ‘girl’ friends called to tell me about the afternoon with her boyfriend. She had to tell someone, and I was that guy. It was great for my imagination.

Her description and her voice telling me about the sweat that was pouring off of her body, the size of his cock and what it felt like in her mouth. The way that he handled her breasts while he was pumping on her sex.

It was virtual, but it was real.

I knew the girl that was describing what it felt like to be fucked for the first time. I was the safe haven she could turn to.

She wasn’t the last one to come to me.

I have more stories in my memory of bodies moving together than I know what to do with.

Until now…

I’m going to share these stories with you. Don’t worry, names will be changed to protect the deviant. Locations will be changed to prevent anyone from connecting dots.

Who knows, maybe you’ll want to come to my confession booth too. Tell me what you’ve done. Maybe I’ll write about you someday.

Thanks for stopping by.

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