Metrosexual
                                               by
                                           Little Dan



I was tightly surrounded on the subway train by four young
toughs, and I had a cock up my heretofore heterosexual ass.
How could this have happened to me?


It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and my wife, Florence,
and I had taken a taxi downtown to Lacey’s Department Store.
We needed a new bedspread as the old one was getting pretty
threadbare.


We went up to the bedding department on the seventh floor,
and it was appalling.  They had nothing.  Years ago Lacey’s
had been a wonderful store.  You could find anything there,
but no more. Coarse artificial fabrics, ugly colors, shoddy
workmanship. Everything was badly manufactured and very
expensive.  We wandered up and down the counters looking and
shaking our heads.  Where would we ever find what we were
looking for?  If this was what Lacey’s was carrying, no one
was even making anything we would want to buy.


We decided to go home, but when we got out on the street, it
was absolutely mobbed.  We had not been aware that today was
the Latin Day Parade, and many blocks were closed off for
street fairs.  On many of the side streets, there were carts
peddling delicacies from all the different Latin countries.


We wandered through a couple of blocks, looking at the
exotic merchandise. Maybe we would find a bedspread, but no
such luck.  At one stand we had some delicious Mexican
tacos.


We walked back to the Avenue to find a cab, but forget it.
The roadways were bumper-to-bumper traffic.  Even if we
could have found a cab, it would have taken us hours to get
home, and cost us a bundle, with the meter ticking away as
the vehicle idled in heavy traffic.


“What are we going to do, Arthur?” Florence asked me.


“We’ll have to take the metro,” I answered her.  The metro
was, of course, the subway.  We had spent our honeymoon in
Paris, and I was in love with all things Parisian.  And so
with a slight Gallic pretentiousness, I had been referring
to the subway as the metro for years.  In Paris they, of
course, called the subway the metro.


In a hundred years Florence would never have thought to take
the subway.  She was a taxi person.  No matter how much more
a taxi cost, she hated being underground, and never traveled
that way.  But now we had no choice. If we wanted to get
home, we would have to take the subway.  Even a bus was out
of the question with this jam-up.  We’d get home tomorrow
morning.


We found an entrance right next to Lacey’s and went down the
stairs.  I bought a card at the booth, and we went through
the turnstiles.  The platform was so packed with people, you
couldn’t even move.


“There must be something wrong,” I said.  “It looks like
there hasn’t been a train in a half hour.”


“It’s so crowded,” Florence complained.  “This is awful.”


We tried to work our way down the platform.  It was a tight
squeeze.  “It’s the Latin Day Parade,” I said, noticing the
people around us.  It was a very Caribbean crowd. I felt as
if I could have been in Havana or San Juan.  Everybody was
very lively and festive.   We continued to move down the
platform and suddenly we came to a halt.  There were four
men absolutely blocking the platform, from one side to the
other, and they didn’t seem very willing to move.


“Excuse me,” I said.  “You’re blocking the whole damned
platform.  We’d like to get through.”


“You hear this guy?” said one of them to the others.  “He
say we are blocking the whole damned platform.  He would
like to get through.”  He was imitating me.  Making fun of
me.


“You’re very rude,” I said, shoving him, trying to get by.


“Oh.  We are rude,” he announced to the others, shoving me
back.  “He say we are very rude.”  He held his position
firmly and refused to let us pass.  Suddenly I heard the
sound of a train coming into the station.  Thank goodness.
Now I would get away from these guys.  I was starting to
feel a little threatened.  I don’t think Florence even
realized what was going on, that we were in a dangerous
situation.


The sound grew tremendously loud, and you couldn’t hear
words anymore.  The train pulled into the station and the
doors opened.  I started to guide Florence toward the open
doors, but suddenly I felt as if I were being swept off my
feet.  I couldn’t control my own movements.  The four men
had closed around me and we moved into the train as a group.
I felt their hands supporting me, as my feet flip-flopped
around not gaining much traction.


I was standing in the middle of the car, packed like a
sardine.  These four guys around me, one on each side, and
hundreds of people around them.  I didn’t even have a pole
to hold on to, but I didn’t really need one.  There was no
way I could fall.  There was no way I could move an inch.
And where the hell was Florence?  We had gotten separated,
and she was nowhere around.  I was worried she hadn’t gotten
on the train, I wanted to try to locate her, but I couldn’t
move a muscle. The train pulled out of the station and the
acceleration forced me back against the man behind me. (One
of the four.)


The guy who had been imitating me was standing directly in
front of me, facing me.  I looked up at his face and he gave
me a scary smile.


“How you doin’?” he asked me.


“Fine,” I said nervously.


“Wha’s yo’ name?”


“Look here,” I started to protest.


“Wha’s yo’ name?” he insisted.


“Arthur,” I said.  I should have lied.  I should have said
Edgar or something, but I was nervous now, and not thinking
too clearly.


“My name is Pablo,” he said.  “Pleased to meet you there,
Arthur. This is a real pleasure,” his tongue dragged on the
word pleasure.


“Nice to meet you,” I answered, smiling tightly, not knowing
what he had on his mind. Pablo was around forty with a black
moustache and beard.  He had a red bandanna wrapped around
his head, and a black and gray ponytail hung down from it.
He was the oldest of the four.  He wore a blue cotton shirt,
unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and I could see his body
was hairy also.


“This here is Juanito,” he nodded toward the fellow on my
left, who was also tall, but thinner.  He also had a black
moustache and beard, but his jet-black hair was cut short.
His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and I could see the muscles
bulging in his strong arms.  I didn’t want any trouble with
him.  I didn’t want any trouble with any of these guys.


“Hello, Juanito,” I said, smiling at him nervously.


“Hola, Papito.” He grinned at me. Juanito was good-looking.


“And this here is Miguelito,” said Pablo, nodding toward the
guy to my right.  Miguelito was the youngest and the
smallest of them.  He was short and skinny, but wiry
looking.  I didn’t doubt that he was also very fast and very
strong.


“Miguelito,” I nodded to my right.


“Hola, Papito,” he said, and gave me a wicked toothy smile.


“That tall guy behind you is mi amigo, Angel,” said Pablo.
I twisted my head around and studied Angel for a second.  He
was very lean looking and very mean looking.  His dark eyes
suggested cruelty and danger.  I didn’t doubt for a second
that he could be a drug dealer or something.  Any of them
could have been. My neck was starting to hurt, so I faced
front again and looked at Pablo.
This certainly was a strange situation.  How had I gotten in
this predicament?  In the middle of a subway car, surrounded
by the four of them.  Was it a coincidence or had they
engineered it?


Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from way down the car,
“Arthur!  Arthur!”  It was Florence. She was on the train,
(thank goodness,) and she had found me, but there was no way
she could have gotten to me.  I smiled at her, and wanted to
wave to her, but my arms were pinned to my sides in the
crush.  She remained where she was imprisoned and smiled
back at me.


Then I felt something strange behind me.  Down low.  A
pulling.  Someone was pulling on the seat of my pants.  And
then I felt something else.  I didn’t know quite what it
was.  I could swear someone was cutting down the seat of my
pants with a knife.  But that was crazy.  But then I thought
I felt the touch of metal on my butt cheek. And was I
feeling a draft? A little cold air on my ass?  But that was
too crazy.  What was happening?


I looked up into Pablo’s face and he seemed to be laughing.
“My friend, Angel, behind you.  He’s one crazy guy.” I
twisted my head around in panic.  It was true.  Angel had
slit my good slacks with a sharp knife.  Bastard!  I had
spent a lot of money for those slacks. I wanted to scream,
but I didn’t dare.  The man had a knife.  I wanted to run,
but I couldn’t budge an inch.  I was in trouble


Suddenly I felt fingers feeding through the slit and
pressing into the crack between my buttcheeks.  He had slit
my jockey shorts as well.  I could feel his hot blunt
fingers on my skin. I wanted to grab his arm and pull it
away from me, but I couldn’t move my own arms. Why had he
destroyed my beautiful pants?  Meanness.  That was it.


His fingers started moving further into my crack.  The tips
were caressing my butthole.  My God.  This was insane.  One
of the fingers moved through the muscle and dug into my
asshole. Good lord. He was finger raping me.  I wanted to
scream, but this was just too embarrassing.  There I was in
the middle of a crowded subway car with a guy’s finger in my
asshole.  He was digging it around, right and left, up and
down, right and left, up and down.  In and out.  In and out.


“You like that, Papito?” asked Pablo.


“No,” I protested. “Make him stop it. Make him take it out.”


“Oh, he gonna take it out real soon,” Pablo assured me.


Finally the finger did come out, but then I felt some
movement against my butt.  Something was going on.  Was
Angel pulling down his zipper?  Pulling down his zipper and
twisting around.  By this time I had a pretty good idea what
was happening.  Angel had pulled down his zipper and was
digging around in his pants to pull out his hard cock.  I
could feel his body move away from mine, only below the
waist, and then I felt the warm blunt head of a large penis
feeding through the slit in my pants and my underpants.  I
felt it going between my cheeks, guided by Angel’s fingers,
and then the tip of it was pressed against my opening.  Now
his hips moved forward, and he was forcing it in me, and it
hurt like hell.  He just kept pushing and pushing, and my
damned asshole was starting to spread around his dick.
“Ooowww.  Ooowww,” I cried silently.  The damned thing just
kept moving in, until finally I felt his zipper scratching
my asscheeks. Angel was raping me.  Angel was fucking me.
This couldn’t be happening.


There were tears pouring down my cheeks, but Pablo, Juanito,
and Miguelito were smiling broadly in satisfaction.  I
couldn’t see Angel’s face, but he must have been beaming as
he started to hunch into my ass.  What a strange feeling.  A
big dick moving back and forth in my asshole.  The pain was
going away a little.


The train sped down the tracks toward the next station, and
the car rocked back and forth.  Under normal circumstances I
would have lost my footing and fallen, but I was held in
place on all four sides, and when my body was thrown
backwards or forwards, I was either slamming my ass down on
Angel’s steely rod, or lifting off of it for a second,
giving him pleasure either way.


Suddenly the lights went off in the car.  That happens
sometimes, for a minute or two.  In the dark I felt hot lips
pressing down on my own, and a large meaty tongue digging
into my mouth.  I was really surprised.  Pablo was giving me
a deep juicy kiss. How disgusting!  Disgusting, but somehow
sexy.  Sexy and stimulating.  My cock was hardening.  I
started to suck down upon his tongue, and found my cock was
getting stiffer and stiffer.  Now I could feel his long hard
dick pressing against my front, and I became conscious of
the two erections, one on my right, and one on my left, that
were pressing into my sides, rubbing against me. Juanito and
Miguelito.  I got so excited, I almost came in my shorts.


I closed my ass around Angel’s dick, as tightly as I could
and started to jack his cock inside my body.  I greedily
sucked on Pablo’s tongue, and—the lights came back on and
our faces separated in a flash, but I could still feel Angel
in my gut.  He was starting to pound furiously.  Or as
furiously as he could in such little space.  And then I felt
hot liquid gushing up into my body.  It was Angel’s nectar.
My hole tried to suck out his juices.  When he and I had
both caught our breath, and I thought it was all over, Pablo
said to me “Excuse me, Papito.  We don’ wanna be rude like
you said, but we gotta move around a little.  You just stand
where you is.”


I stood firmly in place while the circle slowly pushed
against the crowds and moved around me.  Now Juanito was
behind me, and Angel was on my right.  I was facing little
skinny Miguelito, and Pablo was on my left.  I felt more
silent fumbling below waist level, and knew that Juanito was
pulling down his zipper and digging out his dick.


Sure enough, a few seconds later, I felt another hot
throbbing knob dig through my torn clothes, and head towards
my rectum.   My rectum was wet now.  Wet with Angel’s hot
cum, so Juanito’s cock entered me much more easily than
Angel’s had.


“You like a little better now?” asked Pablo from my left.


“Si,” I admitted.  Yes.


Pablo laughed a little and whispered to the others, “He like
hot Spanish cock.”


The others started giggling.  “Si, si.  He like Spanish
cock.”  I was afraid someone else would hear them, but the
train was so noisy, I guess I didn’t have anything to worry
about.  Tall, skinny Juanito started seriously digging his
cock into my hole.  It wasn’t just to humiliate me anymore.
He wanted to fuck.  He wanted to get his rocks off in my
clutching channel.  His dick was a little longer than
Angel’s but not quite as wide, so it was a comfortable fuck
and I was enjoying it.  They could see I was enjoying it.
Miguelito, in front of me, drew down my zipper and dug his
hand inside.  He closed it around my stiff member and began
to stroke.  It was heavenly.  Someone jacking my dick while
someone plowed my ass.  Heavenly.


“Ay, si. Si,” I groaned, lapsing into high school Spanish.
A lady whom I had noticed first standing behind Pablo, and
who was now standing just behind Miguelito looked at me
strangely. She was a middle aged Latina.  She had heard me,
and she clearly understood Spanish.  I quickly looked away
from her and tried to concentrate on Juanito’s fleshpole
digging in and out of my ass.  My rectum started to actively
participate in the assault.  It was petting and stroking the
stiff hard instrument with real affection.  I wished it
didn’t ever have to end, but I could feel Juanito’s pelvis
go into a series of determined short shoves, and more hot
liquid started jetting into my thirsty hole.  Juanito pulled
his cock out and my hole closed in upon itself squirting
some of the juice down my leg and staining my shredded
pants.


Halfway down toward the floor, I felt Juanito’s big palm
slapping my buttcheeks.  Then I felt him stuff himself back
through his zipper, and I think I even heard the zipper
zipping up.   Miguelito removed his soft hand from my penis,
which was protruding through my own zipper.  I could feel
the metal edges scratching against my hard pole.


“We gonna do another ring around the rosy,” whispered Pablo
into my left ear.  “Now you just stand where you is.”  I
nodded.    Once again the circle shifted around me.


Dangerous Angel who had slit my trousers and stolen my
virginity was now standing eye to eye with me. I somehow
knew that one wrong move and I would feel his knife in my
gut.  Little Miguelito was now on my left, and tall Juanito
was on my right, having just emptied his balljuice into my
asscanal.   I looked at him.  He looked contented.


Then I felt Pablo’s bristly moustache and beard at the back
of my neck and along my left cheek.  “Now I got the good
position,” he whispered to me.  “This is where I was waiting
to get.”  I felt his large paws caressing my asscheeks.  He
gave a fast little excited nip on my left ear.  I didn’t
think anyone had noticed, thank goodness.


Once again I felt activity below the waste, and heard the
sound of a zipper.  And soon another big pole was poking
into my private place.  But this one seemed very thick.
Very very thick.  How could that go in? I wondered.  I was
really curious now, and I forced my arms into movement, so
that I could reach behind myself and feel Pablo’s heavy rod.
It really was thick.  “Ay, Papito, si,” he whispered to me.
“Jerk my big dick.  Feel what’s gonna go into yo’ hot hole.
You gonna enjoy that, ain’t you?”


“Yes,” I answered.  What was I going to say?’No’?


“Put it in for me, honey,” he whispered into my ear,
practically licking it.  “Put yo’ man’s big cock into yo’
hot pussy.”  With my arm bent behind me, I tried to maneuver
it into my body.  I got it into position and began pressing
back on it.  Slowly and with difficulty my flesh was
spreading apart around it, and it was heading home, nine
inches into me.


“Uff,” I breathed.


“Oh, man.  So nice. So nice,” chanted Pablo into my ear, as
he hunched into my behind.  And once I got used to the girth
of it, it really was ‘so nice’.  I closed my eyes as the
train roared forward, rocking me in a steady comforting
motion on and off that meaty warm plunger.  On and off.  On
and off.  The rhythm of the tracks.  I didn’t have to think
about a thing.  It was all just happening to me.


“Oh, Pablo,” I sighed aloud.  And the Latina lady who was
now behind Angel gave me a strange suspicious look.  I
didn’t even care.  She couldn’t see anything.  And it was
all wonderful.


“Arthur.  Arthur,” called Florence from down the car.  I
smiled at her and nodded.  I still couldn’t wave.  She was
watching me as I was getting my husbandly ass fucked, and in
a million years she could never imagine what was happening
in that subway car.  It was funny.  I laughed a little.
Pablo thought I was laughing from pleasure and began to
hammer into me.  Each time he slammed forward, I would slam
back, but above the waist you couldn’t see the hint of a
movement.  We were just a couple of guys crushed in a subway
car on the way home from the Latin Day Parade.


“Ay, Papito.  Que culo,” he said appreciatively.  ‘What an
ass’.  This time I think the woman maybe heard the word
‘culo’.  She was really giving me some piercing strange
looks.  I kept my eyes blank.  Angel meanwhile was playing
with my dick, just as Miguelito had.  I looked at him, but
his eyes avoided me.  It was like we didn’t even know each
other.  Okay.  If that was the way he wanted it.  But he
kept stroking my penis, which felt very good.


Pablo was rotating his hips, trying to invent new directions
to fuck me from.  One direction hit my prostate hard and I
would have jumped a foot in the air if only I could have
moved a muscle.  He heard me gasp, and started to hammer
into my gland.


“Arthur.  Arthur,” waved Florence, trying to edge her way
through the crowd to be at my side.  Just what I needed
right now.  “Stay there, Florence,” I yelled above the crowd
in a trembling voice.  “It’s too crowded.”


It was hard to speak with the feelings that were coursing
through my midsection. And I wanted to concentrate on those
feelings, not have to pretend that I wasn’t having those
feelings with Florence jabbering pleasantries at my side,
while Pablo’s big cock was threading in and out of my ass.
“Uff,” I said again.  The woman behind Angel gave me a dirty
look.  I think she was beginning to suspect something.
Maybe because my face was sweating a little.  I just kept a
frozen smile on my face and looked beyond her.


The woman couldn’t have missed hearing Pablo’s hardly
stifled throaty “GGGRAAAHH,” as his Spanish seed fertilized
my assgarden.   There was so much of it, that it began to
ooze out around his planted cock, and run down my pants
legs.  My ass squeezed down on the softening member, hugging
it, caressing it, loving it.  “Que culo,” he repeated.


“Gracias,” I murmered.  The woman was now sneering at me.
I took my eyes off her and looked up into Angel’s baby
browns.   His thin cruel lips were spread in an amused
smirk.  He was looking into Pablo’s eyes and communicating a
shared experience.  My ass.


I felt Pablo stuffing his cock back in his pants and zipping
up, way down below ‘see’ level.  Then we played circle
again.  I stood frozen, while the quartet spiraled into
fourth position.


I was suddenly looking up into the handsome chiseled face of
tall, skinny Juanito.
I liked Juanito.  He was my type.  If there had been room to
kneel on the floor, I would have sucked him off.  I mean,
I’ve never sucked anybody off, but I was certainly
considering that I wouldn’t be adverse to sucking Juanito
off.  To take his big prick in my mouth, and lovingly run my
tongue all around it, and then to chomp down, and start
suctioning it in, over my tongue, letting it stray back into
my virgin throat.  Stop.  Stop.  “Thoughts like this will
drive you mad,” I thought.


“Ay, Papito,” whispered Pablo into my right ear, giving it a
quick bite.  The woman saw.  Angel, who, I think, was a
little mad began licking my neck right in front of
everybody.  I tried not to react.  I was pretending as if
nothing were happening.


Now little Miguelito was behind my buttcheeks, and I felt
the familiar fumbling, and heard the zipper go down.  He
worked his slender ass away from me (how  come so far away?)
to get his prick in line.  It started coming through the
slit, and I felt his finger pushing into my sloppy hole.  He
had one finger extended, searching for the opening, and then
the dick followed.   It followed, and it followed, and it
followed.  It was endless.  Was it going up to my navel?  It
must have been over a foot long.  How could such a skinny
little guy, have such a long dick?  It was still going in.
My god.  It was pressing against my asswalls, but the knob
was hitting very high.  It was hurting.  And then I felt his
zipper scratching my cleft. He was ball deep.  Ayayay,


Thank goodness it was all the way in now.  He started to
fuck into me, and he was hitting deeper areas than any of
the others had hit.  It hurt a little.  But it was good a
little too.


I just couldn’t remain passive anymore.  I took a deep
breath and tried to move my arms, which up until now had
been pinned to my sides, though I had gotten one of them
behind my back for a second to feel Pablo’s cock.  Now I
wanted my hands in front.  I twisted and struggled and
finally I did get my hands in front of me.   I had two
choices.  I could either play with my own dick, which was
hanging there unattended at the moment, or I could be very
daring, and try to play with Juanito’s dick.  I didn’t think
he’d really mind.  And he was so handsome.  If I had been
gay, Juanito would have been my kind of guy.


I made the decision, and furtively began to lower Juanito’s
zipper, while little Miguelito hammered away behind me with
his anaconda cock.   When Juanito realized what I was doing,
a big smile swept across his face.   I knew he would like
it.  I knew it.


“Si, Papito,” he said seductively.


I dug into his underwear and planted my palm around his
heavy meat, which now started to swell and straighten.  I
worked it through his zipper, and began jerking him gently.
What a nice cock.  I really would have liked to get my mouth
around that thing. (Even though I’m not gay.)  I was
wondering if after Miguelito shot his load, I could get them
to make a double shift so I could get Juanito’s sweet pipe
inside my asslips one more time.


Pablo was looking down.  I think he could see what I was
doing.  He whispered something to Angel who was facing him,
and they both started fidgeting, making the tight little
area tighter still.  They were unzipping.  Both of them.
They were starting to jerk themselves (do a paja) on each
side of me, while I jerked beautiful Juanito, and energetic,
athletic, little Miguelito humped and humped my buttocks, as
his python penis built a new nest inside my intestines.


The one thing that was worrying me, is that we had made
several stops and the train was starting to empty out.  One
more stop and it would look funny that we were all five
pressed together in the center of the car.  And that woman
was still giving me nasty looks.  She never took her eyes
off my face.  It was as if she knew what I was doing in
every part of my body.


I was also starting to worry that Florence was getting
closer.  This intimate little scene couldn’t go on too much
longer.  I heard heavy breathing all around me.  I felt
Juanito’s hand pulling my fist off his dick and replacing it
with his own.  Now there were three pajas going on, as
Miguelito continued to enjoy my culo.  “Mmmmm.  Mmmm.
Mmmmmm.” Everybody was making obscene noises, and I felt hot
liquid warmth shoot out around my left hand which was near
Juanito’s prick. He had cum on me.  He was done.  He gave a
tired happy smile.  Then left and right, Pablo and Angel
shot off on me.  Or shot off on my destroyed trousers.  I
must look a sight, with gobs of cum all over my clothes.
Pablo licked my ear again.  The woman frowned and shook her
head.  Florence was getting closer.  It was a race.


I tightened my assflesh around Miguelito.  I needed him to
shoot fast now.  As much as I could, I moved my ass forward
and backward to encourage him.  I heard shuddering gasps,
and I felt the snake first stretching inside me and then
inseminating me.  Hot gush. Gush. Gush. Gush. Gush.
“Aaaarrrrggghhh,” yelled Miguelito.  I think everyone in the
car turned at that point to see what was happening.  I kept
my face blank and stared off into the horizon.  Gush. Gush.
Gush.  It was still hosing into me.  I frantically grabbed
my own dick and did a paja, and in a second I was gushing,
myself.  My cum was running down my pants.


“Arthur,” said Florence.  She was standing fairly close to
me now.  Just behind Juanito.  Next to the disapproving
Spanish lady.


“Hi, Florence,” I said.


“What a crowded train.”


“Yes,” I answered.


“We have to get off next stop,” she reminded me.


“I know, dear.”


I felt Miguelito withdrawing that long fleshtube from my
ass, and tried not to react.  Below waist level, everyone
was zipping up.  I moved my hands to my own zipper and
raised it, after stuffing myself back inside.   But my ass
was still going to be hanging out.  That was a problem.


The train was pulling into our station.  Florence and I
started moving toward the door.  It wasn’t so hard to move
now. Juanito politely moved to the side to let me pass.  We
didn’t look at each other.  I wanted to grab him and kiss
him, shove my mouth over his lips, lick his sweet tongue,
get down on my knees, suck his delectable dick, be his
manwhore, be his slave.  But we didn’t look at each other.


“Maricon,” the Spanish woman uttered as I passed her.


“What did she say?” asked Florence.


“Nothing,” I said.  “I didn’t hear anything.”  I wasn’t
going to tell my wife that the woman had called her husband
a fairy.


We were positioned in front of the door as the train rocked
into the station.  I never looked back.  If only I could
have taken their phone numbers.  Something.  But this would
never happen again. So sad.  A one-time thing.


The train ground to a halt in the station and I rapidly
stepped out, positioning myself in front of Florence, who
was used to walking beside me.


“What are you doing?” she asked.


“Just walk behind me.  Walk right behind me.”


“Why?”  She had to have a reason for everything.


“Never mind,” I ordered.  “Just walk behind me.  Walk one
step behind me.”  With any luck I would get home with no one
seeing my naked oozing ass peeking out through the long
jagged slit in my cum-covered, beautiful, pricey, navy blue
Ralph Lauren slacks.