So, Stephen and I struck up a conversation about the weather while I thought about how big his hands were and wondered if his dick held that same stat...stic.Before I knew it, I had my hand on Stephen with a ph’s leg and was moving in. He kind of backed up sideways and peered at me and asked me what was I doing out alone. He was no rocket scientist, that I could tell. Bill could tell I was a worthless whore like my Aunt Carol liked to tell me and pray to Jesus to help me turn my life around.. He would never hurt me and we could talk honestly to each other. Not to mention he was unbelievably cute. From his shaggy blonde surfer hair to his tan muscular build. I often fantasized about us being together. I knew he felt the same way, but he always tried to hide it. I could tell the way he looked at me when I asked him if a certain pair of pants made my butt look big, or when me and him wrestled in the pool. I was 15 when I finally decided to tell him how I felt. I remember calling him. More

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