I knew she was watching me, and I didn't care. Somewhere during my masturbation, I realized what made the smell different from the one before. It was ...oop. She had been so far up my asshole that some of it was forced out, and mixed with the rest of the smell. It was nasty; I loved it. I was already a mess; sweat, oil, slime, and come covered and dripped out of my body. Who cares about a little poop? I thrust my fingers deeper, yearning for that feeling of fullness and secretly hoping she would. They were poor. Football was his way out to him. I considered his life and compared it to my own. He had a drive and pain from a source I may never understand. It made me feel grateful for the life I had.He started asking me questions about my life. What my parents did, what music I liked. Eventually we got on the subject of dating. He told me about his crazy ex. She burned his football cleats. He asked about my boy friend. I awkwardly explained I didnt have one, and didn't really date. He was. More

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