He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, how some males seemed so fascinated by plastic and metal and paint in the shape of a woman.It wasn't lik... a mannequin had warm flesh, soft skin and a will of its own. No, a mannequin had to stand there, in whatever pose it might be placed in by the dresser. Now there was a nance and a fruit and... well, queer was an out of date word. Gay? He snorted. What did the dresser have to be happy about? AIDS?But the boy stood there staring and the manager. In a split second Max had rolled over and trapped me under him. ‘I bet there are other things I could do better than comedy.’ The humour was no longer in his tone. ‘Oh yeah?’ I asked breathing a little heavier. ‘Yeah,’ he said pushing his groin into me so I could feel his hard and throbbing dick pressed against my mound. I mewled in a low voice. ‘Fuckin’ slut. So fuckin’sexy. And so fuckin’easy.’ He murmured his voice guttural and shaky. He continued to rub against me through my clothes. ‘You. More

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