The gardens are set on a hill, in an old quarry. He was about 25, trackpants, hoodie, stubble, slim, smelt slightly of beer. I walked past him slowly....Very slowly. Couldn't see his face, but could tell he wasn't gay. Maybe bi? Or maybe just there to bust a nut. Either way, as I walked past him, I saw him reach into his pants and flop out his cock. This was it. I got on my knees infront of him, taking in the smell of his semi-soft cock and low-hanging balls. Uncut, even better. He played with. ” The gentleman behind me said, “Hang on tight, Missy, you’re in for a ride today. This driver isn’t called mad Max for nothing’” As I grabbed for the bar, I felt a hand on my thigh and some pressure against my bum. A knee? A hand? Deliberate, or an accident, I couldn’t tell. The gentleman in front of me smiled, “We’ll try to make this as pleasurable a ride as possible, Missy.” I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Scream? Push his hand away? Part of me liked the attention I was getting. Besides,. More

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