I was shaking slightly. I knew I shouldn't but..., he now moved from somewhat behind me to next to me. I was now looking right at his penis outlined i... his jeans, what was I doing? My right hand left the desk edge like I had no control over it. I slowly reached for his cock, I could only stare at my hand now grasping his jeans feeling the shaft within. It was warm and firm, I squeezed gently, rubbing its entire length. I kept asking myself, "what are you doing?", but I couldn't stop. My. Although I couldn’t see it myself, my African features were regarded as quite pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty. I know, I know. Easy to blow my own trumpet, but like I said I always thought I just looked ordinary. It was my girlfriends who told me I was pretty, and more than a few of the boys… Although I suspect they had ulterior motives for buttering me up, but more on that later. Anyway, like I said, I had a normal childhood, Barbie dolls, boys were smelly until I was thirteen and then they. More

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