I wanted it then, there, in the middle of an empty public shower, where I'd imagined doing this with dozens of naked men. I wanted it hard and fast. I wanted to feel every thrust as his body slammed against me. I wanted to be used until the fever in me broke and I erupted."Not here," he said, and I almost growled my frustration. Instead, I let him guide me out of the shower by the neck.He didn't take me far. A few dozen steps and we were back at his locker."Over the bench," he said.I straddled the long wooden seat."Ass up."I bent over to put my forearms on the bench and tried to look back at him."You come when I tell you too."I lowered my head onto my arms and said nothing. I wouldn't make promises I couldn't keep.I didn't hear him spit, but the velvety feel of his dick against my hole told me he must have. He pushed in slowly at first, but when my loose hole gave easily and swallowed the head, he leaned forward with a quick jerk and slid in all the way to the base. My grunt softened. I – um – Is – Is – something. Isolde! That’s it! You’re Isolde!” he exclaimed. “Yup, that’s me.” she said. “How’d you wind up here? I heard you got married to some corporate guy and had a kid and all,” he said. “Yeah, I did. But he ran off with some bimbo secretary, and my daughter got pregnant and moved in with the guy and I got hooked up with a crazy-ass mechanic musician whom, I might add, pisses me off constantly, even though I love him…” and she might have gone on like this for an hour, but they were interrupted by a shout from the road. “I thought you said you said you were gonna make this hay today,” yelled the man. They looked up to see a white Cadillac convertible pulled up on the other side of the tractor. “Hey, Bob,” the tractor man said. “I was just talking with an old acquaintance. I want you to meet…” “We’ve met,” Bob and Isolde said in unison. “Put your junk in my car, so Jackson here can get back to work,” said Bob. “Is that your name? Jackson? It’s kind of.
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