How could life get any better?The answer, of course, was to take even more risks. One weekend out shopping with friends I masturbated in the mall toil...ts, silently rubbing my pussy as people came and went outside. I tried a few times in clothes store changing rooms, but I remember losing my nerve or the sales staff calling through the door to check I was okay (I'm sure they figure if a teenager takes too long she's trying to shoplift). But perversely the sheer stupid risk of doing it drove me. I corner him in the kitchen and reach down, lifting the weight of his dick and balls in my hand, pressing myself against them. Joe lets out a big breath, “Baby.” “Let’s go outside,” I say, pushing myself against him and grabbing his ass. He follows me out, lifting my skirt and reaching for what’s underneath. I push him up against the side of the house and rub my thigh up into and over and against his hardening cock. Our tongues are all over each other. His hands are pressing hard, squeezing my. More

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