Hello. Right off the bat - I am a genetic girl. I could not resist posting after I read some of these encounters, though I realize you boys don't care much about the puss. Softsoles, darling, you inspired me to spill. When I first came to NY (8 years ago, I am 25) my experiences prepped me for times to come.
I used to pick these testosterone puppets up out side of bars (bouncers, oui) and get them to take me home. A schoolgirl skirt will do wonders. But, here in NY, these "str8" men require more than what's under mine. The first guy was wonderful. Muscular, dumb, and very inventive. So inventive he pulled out a strap-on when we got home. Every 17 year old girl's dream. So, I strapped it on and made him crawl around and lick at it like the hungry puppy that I had been earlier that night. What's a girl supposed to do then? He squealed like I should have. What makes this story intriguing, though, is how he told me afterwards he has to confess (as in Catholic) every week about his "weakness". I think that was the binding factor. I assumed the weakness was not the young chick-with-a-dick, but the dick under a Catholic-school veil. Welcome to New York. Straight To Hell.