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His knees were far apart, his limp dick hung down over his massive balls right in the middle of his thighs. He had deep, black pubic hair.He raised his hand, signaled with just one finger for me to step to him. I started to shuffle my feet and I almost lost my balance. It was all over. I was going to do it. I was going to be over his lap. The tension rose up from the middle of my back into my chest, my lungs. I started to cry as I made my way to him. It was as if I could already feel his big hand coming down on my ass, the pain radiating out through my body. It was an automatic reaction that I just did it, just went through with it. He stopped me at his knee, took hold of my wrists, my arms, and pulled me down over his lap.For a moment my feet left the ground, bound together by my jeans they felt useless until they came back down to touch the dirt by just the tips of my boots. He positioned me carefully, pushed my shirt up my back until it was in my arm pits and I could feel it tight. The big mouthful burned like liquor and I coughed and choked. The stuff tasted vile and instantly I realized I'd been duped."Just another internet fool," I said aloud shaking my head. I then decide to go into the garden and clear the shed as a form of self punishment.As I worked in the dusty out building I could see Stacey in her kitchen leaning and stretching reaching for cupboards. The shed was full of junk; stuff I'd never thrown out. For example I picked up a long rubber baton. I think I'd use it for panel beating. I couldn't be sure. "What a load of crap," I declared surveying my room, feeling a little light headed. My shoulders were aching, then my neck, the liquid I drunk no doubt doing this to me. "Ugh I feel sick," I moaned out load. But it wasn't sickness in my stomach, but in my gut like when you realize you have just done something horribly wrong or made a really bad mistake. I began to feel angry, a rage in fact. Angry with myself but also with the beauty I could see.
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