I knew the moment we parked she would kiss me. She didn’t need to know I was waiting, letting the moment build. The car slipped into silence. And the thoughts about her ass and those breasts came to me again, my cock springing into a semi hard state, trapped against my slacks. A minute passed. Then two. “I’m going to kiss you now,” I said. “Is that okay?” She nodded and our lips touched, so soft I almost didn’t register our that they had pressed together. I also didn’t notice I had held my breath. We broke the kiss. “That was nice,” she said. I leaned in again. This time my tongue found hers with more light tender touches. Despite our kissing, I heard her breath catch. I knew I had her then. She broke the kiss. “That was even better,” she said, another hiss of breath escaping. I smiled and pulled her close. For the third time we kissed, and this time I pulled her almost completely into my lap. No more were our kisses soft and tender, but rapturous, passionate, hungry. My hand went to. They both were yelling at me – in my face, only inches away – back and forth. They knew what I’d been thinking. They knew me from deep inside. They read me the fucking riot act for over forty minutes. They knew how I’d been thinking about each of them and Jenny and Deb and everybody. I got asked whether I wanted this job or whether I just wanted a piece of ass and notches on my bed posts.“The two of them asked whether I was up for changing who I was and how I thought about women. I told them my background and how I wanted to change, but that I didn’t know whether I could. They broke me down further until I promised I’d change. I pleaded with them for help to change.“Then they beat me up verbally about the subject of love, believe it or not. They wanted my definition and emotional response about it. I confessed I had no idea, and that all my interactions with members of the opposite sex had been for my personal gratification – out for sex and that kind of thing. I was crying. I wanted.
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