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Ben’s hand rubbed my clit callously, pinching and massaging it, making it hurt, pushing me to the threshold. “Yesssss…” I hissed in both pain and pleasure. It was too much. His fingers ruthlessly rubbing my clit, his cock slamming into my tight pussy, the pleasurable ache I felt with each thrust of his hard shaft, and his hurting my nipples, all combined to bring me to the edge. To scream for release. “Take it. Take it!” Ben snarled. His hand and fingers were wrapped around my neck constricting my air intake slightly, but not enough to be dangerous. “This is what you want,” he yelled, “Scream all you want, I don’t care.” “Ben!” I cried out, the guttural scream coming from deep inside my gut. “You’re mine now. Cum for me. I want your cum all over my cock!” His cock strokes slowed down, but his thumb did not stop rubbing my clit and did not stop making the swollen orb hurt. Ben dragged out the pleasure and my need to cum. The tension built, my legs quivered, my toes curled, the. As I continued completing my business, I saw his shoe, an older, well-worn shiny black dress shoe, inch toward the invisible line that separated my stall from his. He pointed his toe upward each time he appeared to adjust his stance and spread himself a bit wider. Then I saw something that changed my life.Having started young, I was very tuned to sexual activity and, in this case, when I saw his shadow on the shiny white floor moving back and forth in a rhythmic motion, I knew he was stroking himself. My heart leaped as I watched and then new knew the guy inches away from me on the other side of the graphitti-covered metal partition was jacking off. I immediately felt a deep familiar feeling. My inner sex ached in that delicious way it always did when I would go to see my next-door neighbor for some tranny-fucking… or to an arcade dressed like a whore… or to the adult theater dressed like a whore… or the local YMCA… or see my boss in the back office for some quick head before or.
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