Walking in Stories

It seemed to be my weekend for interrupting people in the throes of passion. I sat alone in the cab of the truck and fingered myself closer and closer to orgasm. One hand was down my shorts strumming my clit, the other alternated between groping my own breasts and then snaking up the loose leg of my shorts to caress my soaked labia. I imagined that I looked comical because I was wearing men’s clothes. My past week had bee...